


Keeper

by Harmonious_wordsmith



Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sebastian Stan RPF, Sebastian Stan/Reader - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 45,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonious_wordsmith/pseuds/Harmonious_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Cliffhanger warning! The next chapter will be up very very soon, just not immediately, so I figured I'd give you a heads up.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Click.  
“Amy! Come on now, you know I hate having my picture taken.”  
“Which, I have to say, is kinda weird for a photographer.”  
“Not really, I would just rather be taking the pictures than be in them.” All of your friends know about your complex about being photographed, and you’ve been doing just fine all night avoiding the cameras, although it’s been surprisingly difficult at such a high profile party like this. Amy texted you last week asking if you’d be interested in crashing a premiere after party with her. Her boyfriend, George, landed a supporting role in a film that’s actually been getting a lot of attention in Hollywood and New York City was holding the official premiere tonight. As much as you hate partying, Amy was so excited about the night that you actually agreed. Now, after spending half the night at the open bar, and the other half standing awkwardly in the corner, feeling completely out of place, you’re beginning to regret accepting.  
“You could still make a serious living on the other side of the camera. Just look at those eyes.” She shows you the picture she just snapped of the two of you, but all you can see is how your make up isn’t quite covering that breakout on your chin, and the angle does nothing for the double chin that she keeps telling you isn’t there.  
“Right, the eyes, because eyes are the thing people notice on models. My wide hips and lack of pouty lips would go completely unnoticed.” You try to snatch the phone, but she pockets it too quickly,  
“You are way more beautiful than you think.” She says matter-of-factly.  
“Who’s beautiful?” George asks, butting in,  
“No one.” You answer quickly, trying to silence Amy and change the subject before the three of you get into your self-image issues again, “What’s up? Having fun?”  
“Oh!” George says suddenly, “I wanted to introduce you to someone.”  
“George, please no. No more set ups.” They had never gone well in the past, and you were convinced they were no longer worth the trouble.  
“No, this will be good.” He waves someone over from the other side of the room and discreetly tells you a little bit about the guy, “I think you two will hit it off. He’s one of the stars from this movie, he’s originally from Eastern Europe, but he’s lived in Manhattan for the last twenty-ish years, still hangs out here when he isn’t off shooting. Also,” he tacks on at the last minute, “he and his long term girlfriend broke up about two weeks ago.” Before you can react to the last fact he throws at you, your little group is suddenly joined by a man who looks to be around 30, nursing a beer, “Sebastian, meet my girlfriend, Amy.”  
“Oh, yeah,” he says, “George was telling me about you, you’re a dancer, right?” Her eyes widen and she blushes as he shakes her hand, making her giggle too much to coherently answer. You try to stifle your laugh at her reaction. You’ve never really understood her infatuation with him, but at least she didn’t go overboard with her admiration.  
“And this is the friend I was telling you about,” he nudges Sebastian, “Y/N, Sebastian Stan.”  
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He says with a lopsided smile, shaking your hand. You nod your hello, less than excited about an impromptu set up at a party you didn’t even want to go to. Part of you keeps insisting that he’s incredibly handsome, his smile is charming, what’s the harm of chatting with him? But then every other guy you’ve been set up with flashes through your mind and you suddenly don’t have the energy for this.  
“You know what Seb does,” George says to you, then turns to his friend, “Sebastian, Y/N is a photographer.”  
“Oh, wow. What kind of photography do you do?” Sebastian asks, seeming to be sincerely interested,  
“Well, right now it’s mostly family portraits, baby announcements, that sort of thing.”  
“She’s also an only child, loves reading, and is working on opening her own photography studio here.” George chimes in,  
"Why is this starting to feel like a dating profile?" You ask with an embarrassed groan,  
"Dating?" Sebastian says, his eyes getting a little wide, "Hang on, man," He looks wearily at George, "no thanks. You didn't tell me you were trying to set me up."  
"No thanks?" You repeat his words, trying not to be offended, "Who said I was interested?" He sputters a little bit, trying to backtrack, though not doing a very good job of it,  
"Well... Wait, that's not what I meant."  
"Come on, guys, if you could just loosen up, I really think you'd hit it off." George says to the both of you, trying to push you toward him.  
"Not happening." You say, shrugging away from him. At a sideways glance, you notice Sebastian looks a little hurt by your tone, but you shake off the sting, as you're sure he will. You both just met. He'll be fine.  
Sebastian excuses himself fairly quickly under the pretense of needing another drink,  
"Look, Amy, I'm gonna take off." You mutter soon after, the socialization getting to be exhausting,  
"Oh please don't leave like this, just stay for a couple more drinks and unwind then head home. I'll even pay for your cab."  
She pleads so much you actually give in,  
"Fine. One more drink."  
"Two more." She insists, pulling you to the makeshift bar in the kitchen.  
A few hours, and far more than two drinks later, you're on the dance floor, but you're not sure if you're dancing or the room is spinning, though you're currently buzzing so high you don't even care. You don't care that you have a photo shoot tomorrow, or later today, at this point; you don't care that you're $200 short on the rent that’s due next week, you don't care about any of it. You're just spinning, twirling, moving with the blaring music.  
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize you aren’t dancing alone, vaguely registering arms wrapping around your waist, hands settling in your hips, lips on your neck, but you just keep focusing on the feelings. Soon your hands are all over him, fisting in his shirt, tangling in his hair as you kiss him back. Then the rhythm changes. The music is gone. The atmosphere is different. You’re not on the dance floor, but the movements don’t stop. The feelings building. The pleasured fog you're basking in intensifies, a coil breaks loose inside you and you're falling. No, not falling, someone has a hold of you, pulling you close and anchoring you to them as the rhythm slows. He pulls you to his side and you're promptly wrapped in warmth. You’re head rests on a strong chest, listening to slowing breaths as the fog gives way to shadow, every muscle in you relaxes, and the warmth overtakes you, pulling you into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Your phone rouses you, chirping out its wake up call from somewhere in the corner of the room. Stirring, you want so badly to ignore your alarm and drift back to sleep; your limbs feel like lead, and you have a piercing pain in your temples. There is a calm thumping by your ear, beating in opposition to the throbbing in your head.   
Heartbeat.  
You didn't leave the party alone last night.   
Your eyes fly open, met so suddenly with the bright sunlight streaming through the window that a screaming pain shoots through your head and curdles your stomach. You curl up with a hissed gasp, rousing the man beside you. As he shifts, stretching and yawning, discovering his own aches. You frantically try to remember the night before, who you talked to, who you danced with, who you might have flirted with. The entire night is a haze, your hungover mind offering nothing helpful, the only two people you remember talking to at length were George and Amy...  
Wait...  
You force your eyes to open again, looking up into a vaguely familiar face. He rubs sleep from his eyes, and reaches up to rub his head, stopping suddenly when he feels you, still laying in his arms.  
"Um..." The man mutters, looking at you with surprise,  
"...yeah." You whisper, not knowing what to say,  
"G'Morning?" Sebastian greets uncertainly,  
"...yeah." You say again, rolling away from him and wrapping yourself in the bed sheet, suddenly hyper aware of your nakedness. You don't recognize the room, so you assume you're at his apartment, you don't even know where that is. A sudden panic rolls through you at the thought.  
It's time to go.  
You try to stand, wanting to get dressed and get out, but as soon as you sit up, the room tilts, wringing your stomach. Spotting the bathroom across the hall, you dart out of the room, bed sheet trailing after you, barely making it to the commode before you double over.  
You juggle holding your hair back and keeping the sheet tight around you as you rinse your mouth out, and soon hear slow footsteps followed by a groan in the hall beside you as you're rinsing your mouth.  
"Are you alright?" He asks softly as he stands in the doorway, having thrown on a pair of sweats, now squinting and holding his head, apparently not doing much better than you are.   
"I'm fine," you croak, "just give me five minutes, I'll be out of your hair." You duck past him to go searching for your clothes from last night.  
"Hey, don't be ridiculous, take your time, let me make you some coffee. I think we could both use it."   
"I uh... I don't think that's such a great idea." You clear your throat, uncomfortable, embarrassed, though you weren't completely sure what about; from getting so drunk you don't remember the night before? From waking up next to a man you had only just met? Maybe a bit of both?  
'This is why you sneak out when you have a one night stand, genius.' You scold yourself.   
"Why not? It's just coffee. We're both hungover, I don't know about you, but sick as I feel, I'm also starving..." He sounds defensive.   
"I just... I don't normally do this..."  
By now you've finally found your phone and silenced the shrill ringing, your stomach drops when you take note of the time.  
"No..." You gasp,   
"What's wrong?"  
"I was supposed to be at the studio for a shoot half an hour ago!" You tug your dress over your head, trying to formulate a plan to get your hands on something less formal for your day at work, surely a stop at your own apartment is out of the question. The thought makes you pause, turning to him as he leans against the doorjamb, eyes closed,  
"By the way..." You start awkwardly, "Where exactly... Where are we? I have to be in the garment district... well... now."  
"We're in the East Village." he murmurs, "I'll call you a cab, you can clean up here if you'd like." He leaves you to go grab his phone while you're rummaging for your jacket. You can only find one shoe,   
"I really don't have time to clean up... I'm already late." You call to him, huffing out your frustration as you tug on your jacket, the sigh making your head throb again; you're still missing one shoe, but you pause quickly to text Amy, practically begging her to bring a few things to you at work when she has a chance. As she's currently between choreography gigs, she's been making her own hours, so she's your safest bet right now.  
Sebastian reappears in the doorway, ending a call and handing you your missing shoe.  
"Your cab should be here by the time you get downstairs. You sure I can't--"  
"Why?" His brow furrows at the question, "Look, we don't have to make this any more than it really is. We were both really drunk..." His smile fades, you force yourself to get moving. "Thank you... For the cab. I'll uh... I'll find my way out."  
He steps aside, letting you pass, not saying anything more and not looking you in the eye.  
You rush down to your cab, trying to brush off the guilt.  
It didn't mean anything. Really...


	3. Chapter 3

You charge through the doors of your studio, actually your boss's studio, and skid to a stop at your station, noting in passing that there were no customers. Wasn't there a 12:00 appointment in the book? You hear your boss coming up behind you,  
"Where have you been?" His voice is quiet, but his tone makes you shrink back,  
"I am so sorry, Marcus. It's kind of a long story, I didn't hear my alarm this morning, and I was all the way across town-"  
"Save it. You've already missed the first three clients, and I really needed you. Have you ever attempted an infant photo shoot on your own?" You start to shake your head before you realize the question is rhetorical. "And without an extra pair of hands for the six sets of senior portraits that followed, it took twice as long to get through the appointments, pushing the whole day back by two hours, the last four cancelled because I wasn't able to keep their appointments."  
"...I'm sorry--"  
"You lost me four customers today, never mind the damage word of mouth will do."  
"I'm sorry, I swear it won't happen again." You plead with him as he turns back to his own cameras. Your throat is bone dry as you wait in limbo for a response, staring at his back. Finally he sighs heavily,  
"Consider this your warning. If you ever show up that late again, you're fired." His tone softens suddenly, and you wonder for a moment if he is even talking to you. "I didn't even get a phone call, Y/N. Believe it or not, I do worry about you."   
"Why would you worry?" He shrugs, noncommittally,  
"Look, you're a great assistant, but honestly I don't know how you manage to walk around like you do with your head in the clouds, and not step out in front of a bus, or fall down a manhole or something." You flounder for a response, unsure if you should be offended at being called an airhead, or flattered because someone cares if anything has happened to you. Marcus has never shown so much concern for you before. Granted you've never been AWOL like this either. "Just get set up," he stops you with a dismissive wave of his hand, "we have a last minute shoot this evening."   
"What kind of shoot?"  
"Some actor, up and coming but still under the radar. A mag nearby is doing a spread and their usual go-to is booked solid, so they called us."  
An actor? That's high profile compared to the portraits that usually come his way. You both begin the set up, pulling out particular lighting equipment and appropriate backdrops, dusting off a few extra lenses. You are discussing possible props with Marcus when the wardrobe is delivered followed soon after by a middle aged, obviously business minded woman, in a shirt black dress and heels, arranging something apparently very important on her cell phone. Definitely an agent.  
"You must be Mr Phillips," she says almost distractedly, though she tried to feign friendliness, extending her hand,  
"I am, good to meet you Ms. Brooks, this is my assistant, Y/full/N." She shakes your hand as well, and you nod a greeting, knowing you're meant to be part of the background here anyway.   
"My client should be here shortly, he got a bit hung up in traffic." She informs Marcus, tapping away on her phone,  
"Naturally, this is New York, after all." He offers lightly,  
"I figured we could talk over logistics before he arrives, try to make this as quick and smooth as possible."   
So you're left running back and forth between tables of tools and camera parts to backdrops and wardrobe racks gathering articles as appointed by Ms. Brooks.   
If the style of these clothes is any indication of who this guy really is, you may be developing a crush already. You see some of the outfits and can just imagine how the crisp white of that button down would look against slightly tanned skin, maybe stretched across broad shoulders. Or how the blue one could make his eyes stand out. Then the casual ensembles, you see a tall man catching a frisbee in Central Park, or walking with you through the Village on a Sunday afternoon.   
In all honesty, though, this man could be a real pig.  
You're pulled from your revery by hasty footsteps aching down the hall into the small warehouse of a studio,  
"So sorry I'm late. Construction. New York drivers, the usual. Did I miss much?" You momentarily freeze at the voice coming from the door and, turning slowly, you almost can't suppress your gasp.  
As soon as he sees you his eyes go wide and both of you stare, neither knowing what to say.  
Marcus and Ms. Brooks look from you to Sebastian in amused confusion,  
"I take it you've met..." Brooks begins, "Mr. Phillips, Miss Y/N, my client: Sebastian Stan."


	4. Chapter 4

"So you've met?" Marcus asks,  
"We were... introduced last night." You try to sound nonchalant about it, "Friend of a friend kind of thing. Nice to see you again, Stan." You shake his hand quickly and busy yourself by taking more time than was really necessary to finish up your organizing, all the while being hyper aware of everything happening behind you. The quiet tones of Sebastian's agent and Marcus discussing the order of the shoot and how long it would potentially take.  
"Y/N," Marcus almost startles you when he gets your attention, "if you could get Mr. Stan set up--"  
"Call me Sebastian, please." He insists, wrinkling his nose, "Mr. Stan is way too formal."  
"Alright then, if you could get 'Sebastian' set up with his first ensemble and bring him up to speed on our plan for the afternoon, that would be great." Marcus dismisses any questions you may have had by turning back to his discussion with Ms. Brooks, leaving you standing awkwardly, nervously, wanting to be anywhere but here, looking at the man you shared an elusive night with and ran out on the next morning like some sort of slutty Cinderella.  
You clear your throat, willing your voice to be steady,  
"Of course, right over here... Sebastian." Just saying his name makes you feel giddy as a school girl, you would stuff your hands in your pockets if Amy had ever shown up with the bag you talked her through packing for you. Instead you settle for clasping them behind your back to settle their shaking, trying to suppress the blush threatening to creep in from your extended walk of shame.  
"You don't have to worry about this." He whispers, low enough that your boss and Ms. Brooks don't hear, "I can be professional. This is just a photo shoot, and I'll be sure to keep it that way."  
Though you're grateful for his attitude toward the situation, you feel guilt settling in the pit of your stomach again.  
“We were thinking this would be your first outfit,” you speak just loud enough that you know Marcus can hear you, “nice and casual, then we'd work our way up into more formal looks." You continue your ‘tour’ as though you hadn’t heard him until you’re sure that Marcus isn’t listening.  
“Thank you.” You whisper quickly, and so covertly he almost misses it, but you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes, so you miss the halfhearted smile he offers.  
“Alright, shall we get started?” Marcus says with a clap. You pass the first outfit to Sebastian and direct him to a makeshift changing area near the corner.  
For the next two hours, you were Marcus’ runner, adjusting lighting, changing out belts or jackets as his vision for the shoot changed, and swapping out lenses and cameras to keep him from having to pause when he got on a roll.  
“Hey, girli-o, sorry I’m so late—, oh… and that I’m interrupting.” You spin around to see Amy, standing in the doorway, looking sheepish, your backpack slung over her shoulder.  
“I’m so sorry Marcus, can I just take a minute?” We waves you off with a long suffering sigh,  
“We should probably take five as it is.”  
With a quick thank you, you drag Amy into the hall as she passes you your backpack,  
“So?” she whispers once the two of you are out of the room,  
“So what?”  
“I saw you leave the party last night with Sebastian, and then you call me this morning needing a change of clothes? You know I’m going to want details, and soon!” You roll your eyes at her,  
“Even if I could remember, I wouldn’t talk about it.” You head to the bathroom to finally get out of your dress,  
“That bad? Or that good?” She asks with a wink  
“That stupid.” You mutter, pushing into the bathroom.  
.  
.  
.  
Amy leaves as soon as the two of you have made plans for the weekend, and you get back to work, more comfortable now that you’re not so dressed up. The rest of the evening doesn’t take too long, and by the time you’re all getting hungry, Marcus announces he has what he needs.  
“Great work,” he thanks Sebastian, shaking his hand, “I gotta admit, after a day of screaming children and diva graduates, it’s nice to have a subject that can take direction.”  
“Hey, no problem.”  
“Alright, Sebastian, I’ll be waiting in the car while you change. And be quick, reservations at 8.”  
You’re packing up the cameras and lenses across the room when Sebastian heads back into his changing area, but when he pulls the curtain closed behind him, he doesn’t notice that it gets stuck, the one-foot-wide gap giving you a great view of his back as he strips off his shirt. You know it’s unprofessional, not to mention rude, but you can’t tear your gaze away as the muscles in his back shift and flex. In the lighting, you’re not quite sure you are actually seeing what you think you’re seeing, but then you feel the raging blush color your face all the way down your neck when you spot the thin pink scratch marks stretching across his shoulder blades.  
You hear his belt buckle rattle and finally force yourself to turn around. You arrange and rearrange the light stands and their umbrellas until you hear someone clear their throat behind you.  
“Hey.” Sebastian smiles,  
“Hey.” You shuffle your feet a bit, feeling awkward  
“Can I ask you something?” he says, finally breaking the silence,  
“Maybe.”  
“This morning, if you hadn’t been in a hurry…” He cuts himself off, rethinking his words, “You seemed hell-bent on getting out this morning, and it felt like it was more than just being late for work…”  
“Yeah, that’s really a long story.”  
“Maybe something we could discuss over coffee?” He prompts. You look hesitant. “Do you not drink coffee?” he laughs, “We could go out for tea, or beers… We could chat over the water cooler.” You look around,  
“What water cooler?” He shrugs,  
“We could find a water cooler somewhere.” You chuckle,  
“Not sure you really want to open that door. I just—“  
“Sebastian, we really have to get going.” Ms. Brooks reappears at the door, cell phone glued to her ear, seemingly in the middle of diffusing some situation elsewhere. You keep quiet, hoping he will head out and let it go, but he doesn’t budge. “Stan, we’re running late, I need you in the car like now.”  
He still doesn’t move, staring you down. You almost want to accept just to get him moving.  
“Dinner. Saturday night.” He insists.  
“Stan, come on!” His agent looks about ready to blow a fuse as she whispers hurriedly to whomever she is talking,  
“Fine. Just go, you’re gonna kill your handler over there.” The smile he flashes you makes your knees go weak, and he winks as he runs out with his agent, never losing his smile, even as he gets what looks like an earful from her.  
Marcus sidles up beside you,  
“Did you just—“  
“Yup…”  
“A date…”  
“Yup…”  
“With him?” You sigh, rubbing your face,  
“Yup.”


	5. Chapter 5

The next several days pass hearing nothing from Sebastian, which makes a part of you worry that he's forgotten about you, and part of you hope he changed his mind. You promised yourself all those years ago that you wouldn't be taken in like this again, and here you are Friday afternoon, assisting your boss with a day of family portraits, planning on breaking your promise to yourself. Possibly. If the man would ever call.  
That's when it dawned on you: you never gave him your number.  
After the final family packs up and herds their whining children to the elevator, you and Marcus settle in for a late lunch break, right as the the office phone rings. You're both crossing your fingers, silently wishing for no more family appointments as he answers,  
"Shuttered Photography Studio, this is Marcus." He braces himself, then looks puzzled, "Yeah, one second, she's right here," he hands you the receiver, "it's for you." You frown as you press the phone to your ear,  
"Hello?"  
"I kept calling to make arrangements for tomorrow night, but then I realized you probably couldn't hear me unless I used the phone." You snort, almost not recognizing Sebastian's voice,  
"Yeah, voices don't carry too well to to Astoria all the way from the East Village, do they?" He chuckles,  
"Do you have any idea how long it took and how much I had to barter with my agent just to get the name of your studio?"  
"I just figured you were trying to keep me on my toes. Or that you forgot about me. That was a definite possibility in my head." You tease him, trying to ignore the unamused look Marcus was trying to hide.  
"Never." His tone is only half teasing, making you either giddy or uncomfortable, you haven't quite decided yet. "So I was thinking, I could pick you up at your place tomorrow at 7."  
"Oh don't worry about it, I can meet you wherever." You're met with a long silence.  
"You are kidding, right?" He finally asks, "You think I'm going to let you take a cab or a subway, or both to meet me for a date? How lame do you think I am?"  
"Do you really want me to answer that?" You try to ensure your joking tone gets across,  
"Oh, ouch," he laughs, "fair enough. However, the night of the party aside, I am actually quite the gentleman if I do say so myself." Marcus is apparently eavesdropping since he frowns at the last statement, his gaze flickering up to you momentarily.  
"I'll be the judge of that."  
"Please do. Now, if you could text me your address, and 7 works for you, I'll leave you to the rest of your day, which I hope I'm not interrupting too terribly..."  
You tap his number into your phone as he relays it, and text him your address and some minor directions before saying goodbye. Once you hang up, you expect to get the third degree from Marcus, but he keeps his eyes glued to his plate in front of him, and his mouth too full to talk.  
Something is weird with him today.  
.  
.  
.  
It's finally Saturday night, you've just finished pinning up your hair and you're taking one last look in the mirror, shifting your black, knee length dress, smoothing out the skirt one more time when you hear your door bell.  
You take a few steadying breathes before buzzing him into the building, then gather your phone, purse, and a shawl. You jump when Sebastian knocks on the door, 'here we go...'  
You open the door to find him in a sleek looking suit with no tie. His eyes brighten as he looks you up and down, a small smile slowly spreading across his face,  
"You're beautiful." He says quietly, staring; finally he shakes his head to make himself focus, "Shall we?" He offers his arm and the two of you make small talk on your way downstairs to the car, but you finally have to ask,  
"Where exactly are we going?"  
"Dinner." He replies, "Well, dinner and drinks."  
"Drinks?" You ask, cocking your eyebrow, "Do you really think that's the best idea after last time?" He laughs,  
"I think we'll be able to handle it. A friend of mine found this pub on the edge of Central Park, Tavern on the Green. Came highly recommended." He opens the car door for you and you climb in, trying your best to be graceful in your heels. He slides in beside you and signals to the driver to head out.  
"So then, tell me your biggest dreams and worst fears." He says, not a trace of joking in his eyes. You look back at him, confused, feeling a little uncomfortable. He sees you shift in your seat,  
"I'm kidding." He laughs, "I do want to know more about you, but how's about we start with easier questions? For instance: favorite color?" You smile, relaxing a bit,  
"Red. You?"  
"Blue. Favorite food?"  
"Lobster ravioli."  
"Street tacos, but I'm a sucker for a good burger too."  
"How many siblings do you have?" You ask  
"Ah, only child."  
"Same."  
The game of twenty questions continues for the whole drive, by the time you make it to the restaurant, he knows that you don't, in fact, drink coffee, Nora Jones makes you cry in the best possible way, you've lived your whole life moving around the outlying areas of New York City, but you've never actually lived in Manhattan, and if you had it your way, you would have at least six dogs waiting for you at home. You found out about his childhood in Romania, how he was teased relentlessly in school, that he went to Rutgers for college, and that he is generally a massive dork by default. When you arrive at Tavern on the Green and find a corner booth, ordering dinner and your first round of the night, the atmosphere comfortably allows the conversation to take a deeper turn.  
"Do you remember anything from the party?"  
"Honestly, not really. The entire night is a blank after our near-set-up, I think I was dancing at some point? All I know is that I had way too much to drink."  
"You were dancing, I was pretty drunk by then too, but not so far gone that I blacked it out. I remember that couldn't take my eyes off of you, though." He blushes, looking bashful as he trails off,  
"What about you?" You want to shift the subject, "What about your 'no thanks', you weren't exactly gung-ho for anything that night. What happened there?" He presses his lips into a thin line, considering his words a little longer than you feel is necessary, but he finally looks up, straight into your eyes.  
"You happened." You know the line is cheesy, and as a pick up line it would never work on you, but in this instance, you feel like you might actually believe him. "I was with my last girlfriend for two years, we had even talked about where we were going, and we both seemed to want to go the distance, I never saw the break up coming. I was thinking two weeks is a bit soon to be out there again... But when I woke up and the first thing I saw was you... I thought maybe George was right." Your throat goes dry with nerves at his sincerity and take a long swig of your wine,  
"No, I didn't mean it like that." He chuckles, seeing the way you're eyeing the exit. "Or maybe I did, but you know... You asked."  
"You're right. I did... But come on, we haven't even known each other for a full week."  
"True..."  
"Nothing against you, really, it's just..."  
"A lot. I get it, don't worry." You drain your glass, trying to think of a different direction for the conversation.  
"So... What made you take the role in that movie?"  
"What?" He asks, confused,  
"The movie. "Mira", right? It seems like someone who played a main - and according to Amy, a beloved - character in a Marvel movie wouldn't have to take jobs with indie directors, however up-and-coming they may be, so I figured there must be a reason behind it."  
"Oh, well part of it is that work isn't always available, so you want to do what you can when you can, but that project was just too special to pass up."  
He launches into the story of the script coming to him, meeting with the director, the story really sticking with him; and the more he talked, the more animated he got, and you couldn't help but get pulled into his stories. Before long, the two of you had shared several bottles of wine and the conversation has covered past work that Sebastian had done, your intentions for opening your own photography studio, books, music, and now you've somehow started pitting various superheroes against each other in ridiculous scenarios, like whether Deadpool or Aquaman would win a Brussels-sprouts-eating contest.  
When you hear last call, your head is fuzzy again, and you and Sebastian have drifted closer throughout the night, and were now pressed close to each other in the booth, your voices low, words slurring from too much wine, laughter muffled. The conversation pauses and he catches your eyes, leaning toward you slowly.  
His phone vibrates in his pocket, making you jump.  
"Sorry," he laughs, maybe a little too much, but at that point you would both laugh at anything. "Car's here." He slides out of the booth, steadying himself against the table before offering his hand to help you to your feet.  
You probably shouldn't have had those last couple of drinks because throughout the entire ride home, you're so relaxed, your thoughts are increasingly muddled, and with Sebastian's hand resting on the outside of your leg, your only thought in the front of your mind is how easy it would be to kiss him. You're sitting so close, his breath skating across your cheek. Your eyes drift shut.  
.  
.  
.  
You wake up with a familiar pounding in your head, and an unfamiliar warmth wrapped around you. At the stirring of the body behind you, your stomach sinks,  
"Oh no... Not again."


	6. Chapter 6

"Nonononono..." You start muttering, torn between jumping out of bed, thereby putting distance between you and Sebastian, and staying put until you can quell the lurching in your stomach. Meanwhile your muttering has roused him and he stretches and yawns beside you.  
"Morning." He grunts, voice rough with sleep,  
"Sebastian... How..." He cracks an eye open to look at you, but you can't speak, the nausea overtakes you and you bolt out of bed, straight into your bathroom.  
As you empty your stomach of anything left from the hours since the two of you had dinner, every heave making your head throb harder, you feel Sebastian come into the room behind you. He wets the hand towel beside the sink and pulls your hair back, dabbing your forehead and neck.   
"Sorry. Didn't realize you were that far gone last night." He whispers, careful to keep his voice down. The cloth on your neck is surprisingly soothing, and finally your stomach has concluded its revolt. You huddle against the cold tile wall, holding your still-queasy stomach, and Sebastian hands you a small cup with a bit of mouthwash, then kneels in front of you.   
"A little better?" He asks, you cover your face and groan,  
"How did this happen again?"  
"What?"  
"This!"  
"Yeah, I'm gonna need a little more... Getting drunk? Having a hangover?"  
"You and me... In bed... And I don't remember anything from this one either." You moan,  
"Wait..." Sebastian takes your hands in his, "Y/N, look at me." He waits for you to finally open your eyes, "Nothing happened last night." You take him in for the first time that morning, finally realizing you're both dressed. You're actually in your pajamas, but Sebastian slept in his slacks and undershirt.   
"Nothing happened?"  
"No." He smiles, "Aside from us, yet again, having a little too much to drink."  
"Wait, why did you stay?" You ask suddenly, Sebastian finally looks away, his eyes settling where he's still holding your hands,  
"You asked me to." You don't know what to say, so you simply look at him with surprised wonder. And you can't help but find his sudden timidity adorable,  
"So, what's your usual hangover cure? Everyone has one." He asks suddenly, changing the subject, "Bloody Mary? Stale crackers?"   
You shoot him a sidelong glance, deliberating.  
"Don't judge me." You say, finally. "There's a diner on the corner. Greasiest chili fries on earth. For some reason, they've always done the trick."  
"Chili fries," he nods, "coming right up. You need any help right now?"  
"You don't have to do that--"  
"I know, I know," he cuts you off, laughing, "but I'm going to. So, just hang out for a bit and I'll be back."  
You try to offer a small smile, but don't even want to think about moving from your spot, afraid any movement will upset your stomach again.  
Fifteen minutes later, you've worked your way to the couch, laying a cool rag across your throbbing forehead after you buzz Sebastian back into the building.   
There's a soft knock at the door,  
"It's open." You groan. Sebastian peeks in, holding two take out containers,  
"Hope you don't mind, when I was ordering yours they sounded good... Thought we could have breakfast together... Er... Lunch at this point." He chuckles,  
"Sure... That could be nice."   
He closes the door quietly, careful not to make any loud noises,   
And sits next to you on the couch, passing you your container of greasy potatoes and chili, and you both dig in. The silence feels awkward to begin with, until Sebastian drops a glob of chili on his suit pants, then you can't stop laughing.   
"Yeah, yeah, very funny." he says, feigning insult even though he can't suppress his own laugh, "I guess now would be a good time to tell you that you've had something stuck in your teeth since you started eating.  
"I know..." You stutter out a white lie, "I was just saving it for later." You effectively gross him out which makes you laugh even harder until your stomach starts to ache again and you double over with a groan.   
"Grease not helping?"  
"Well, it kinda did, it just didn't get rid of it all this time. Guess I'm not going anywhere today."   
After a while you notice that Sebastian is being unusually quiet, when you look up, he's frowning deeply and his mind is obviously somewhere far off,   
"What's wrong?" You ask suddenly, startling him back to the present,  
"Nothing, just thinking too hard, I guess." He smiles weakly,  
"I call liar."  
"No, really... It's just... Probably too early on to ask, is all."  
"No, I won't marry you." He chokes on a fry, and you give him a few firm pats on his back to help him get his breath back.  
"Yeah, no. Not that." He laughs, but doesn't say anything else. After a while you can't stand it any more,  
"Well, now I'm too curious to let it go, so you might as well ask." So after some hesitation, he does,  
"I just wanted to ask what made you bolt last week." He's subtly fidgeting, "I know you said it was a long story. I just thought..."  
"What?"  
"Was I really that bad?" You catch the look he gives you, his eyes shining, hinting at his joke.   
You snort,  
"I already said I don't remember..." You pick at the few remaining fries in your take out box. Appetite sated for now, though you still feel like you're on the outer edges of your hangover, "As for the long story... It's just that... I've discovered in the past--" you rethink and reword yourself so many times you have to stop.  
"You're not the first actor I've dated, Sebastian." He turns toward you on the couch, giving you his full attention.   
"Okay..." He prompts when you take a while to continue,  
"Though it may not make me sound good, I've dated a lot of different types of guys, and they've all ended up being horribly cliche in their distinct lack of skill in relationships. I've dated businessmen who quickly let their jobs kill any relationship they begin, artists who are too moody for me to stand for long, and then performers. Actors and musicians who are so good at giving their audience what they want that I can't tell what is genuine anymore." You see understanding dawn in his eyes,   
"My last boyfriend kind of clinched it for me, though. You'd think that just one time walking in on him in OUR bed with another woman would be enough to get me to hit the road, but no. It took catching him two more times for me to even consider that he was slightly less than sincere with me. After that I decided that I can't trust actors. You guys make a living off of lying, how do I know I can trust anything you say to me?"  
He nods his understanding,   
"Because it's just a job." He says finally, "Those of us who aren't playboys, act for a while, have fun playing a different person, having a different life, pretending to be the hero or villain for just a little while, then we leave it behind to be able to come home to someone who makes us want to be us." The way he looks at you makes your stomach flutter in a more pleasant way than you were feeling before,   
"If you say 'someone like you', I swear I'll dump the rest of my chili fries in your lap." You laugh, trying to lighten the subject just a bit,  
"Well, fine, but it's true. You definitely didn't deserve what he did to you." With the two of you facing each other on the couch, arms flung across the back, he begins playing with your fingertips,   
"Even putting that experience aside..." You begin,  
"Too soon, huh?" He asks, wincing,  
"You got out of a relationship three weeks ago... How do you know I'm not just a rebound?" Staring at you in silence for a long while, he seems to be considering something,  
"Fair enough. Too soon."  
"Would you hate me forever and magically lose my number if I friend-zoned you right now?" You brace yourself for a disappointed puppy-dog face, but are thoroughly surprised when he throws back his head and laughs,  
"As long as you're okay with it, I'd actually like to keep your number. I can get behind this 'friend' idea."  
While you can still see the disappointment behind his eyes, the air between you shifts just a bit and the awkward charge melts into a comfortable atmosphere.  
"So, what do you say to a Sunday morning movie... Friend?" You ask.  
"I thought you didn't feel up to going anywhere..." He says, confused.  
You point at your extensive movie library,  
"I'll even give you first pick." He smiles. A real smile, not like he's trying to make you feel better, and heads over to pick a movie.  
"Anything?"  
"Anything."  
You're a little worried by the stifled laugh that is followed by him covertly slipping a movie into your DVD player, until the menu loads.  
"Just Friends?" You laugh, "Really?"   
"Seemed appropriate." His voice is tight with suppressed laughter, but you just shake your head as you click play.


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey, you doing anything next weekend?" You've been thoroughly enjoying a lazy day laying around your apartment, mainly catching up on reading, when you get a phone call from Sebastian.   
"I have no idea. What's today?"  
"Day off, huh?" He laughs, in three weeks you've actually gotten to know each other surprisingly well. He was busy working most of the time, but any spare moment he had on set that wasn't spent falling asleep in odd places, he was usually texting you. He knew when Marcus was being tough on you or you were generally having a rough time with something. You could hear in his tone when he'd had a particularly tough day on set, or when he could quite let his character go when he'd finished for the day. At this point you were so used to hearing from him throughout the day that when he was silent you would sincerely worry that something happened to him.  
"Been cloning people and researching an ancient manuscript all day." You sigh happily,  
"I will never understand how you can read two books at once."   
"It's not literally at once, I just read a few chapters in one and then switch to the other."  
"And you don't confuse the stories."  
"Oh of course I do. Not always, but when it happens it's funny. And sometimes a little disappointing at the same time." You can imagine the look he's giving you as he shakes his head, because of course he's shaking his head,  
"Well, it's Saturday, are you doing anything next weekend?"  
"When?"  
"Basically all day next Saturday, but essentially from about 5:00 in the evening on."  
"You mean aside from managing my clones?"   
"Oh please, you'll be done with that book by the end of the day and you know it."  
"What about my manuscript?"  
"I wouldn't put it past you to stay up all night and end up finishing it by breakfast. Are you covertly telling me no? Or are you just trying to be a pain?" You hear him chuckling, so you know he means it as a tease,  
"Depends."  
"On what?"  
"Why do you want to know what I'm doing?"  
"Because I need a date."  
You nearly fall off the couch as soon as the word leaves his mouth,  
"A date? I thought we talked about this..."  
"Not a date date. There is a premiere next Saturday of a movie I shot last summer, I thought you'd like it, and I'd like someone to be there with me."  
"A premiere?"  
"Yeah."  
"Like a real movie premiere? Like with movie stars and directors..."  
"Yeah..."  
"...And paparazzi?" Your voice gets quiet,  
"Oh right, the picture thing." He has seemed to understand in other situations when you two met with some friends for lunch, or had another movie night. You meant it when you reprimanded Amy for taking pictures of you at that party. You didn't like any of the pictures of yourself and refused to let people take any of you without putting up a fight. "Are you really going to let that get in the way of you meeting Chris Evans?"  
You nearly choke, and actually do fall off the couch, when his question registers.  
"Are you serious?"  
"Maybe."   
"You're serious..."  
"Might be."  
Suddenly you have to be there but don't want to be anywhere near the event at the same time.  
"...hello?"  
You're quiet for so long that Sebastian checks to see if you're still there,  
"A week to find a movie premiere dress?"   
"Oh, don't worry about that, I'll take care of it." You snort at the idea of him shopping for you,   
"Right, sure. Not sure I trust what you call your fashion sense."   
"No, really. I, uh... Kinda already have a dress for you." You're equal parts wary and flattered,  
"How are you so sure it will fit?"  
"Just trust me." He answers vaguely,  
"And why do you already have one? What if I had said no?"  
"Then I would have had to search NYC for a young woman that looks like you."  
"Don't limit yourself, I'm sure there are plenty of Cougars who'd love to get their hands on you."  
He barks out a laugh so loud you jerk your phone away from your ear,  
"Have you said yes yet?" He whines, "I actually have to get back to interviews in a minute."  
You hesitate again. As much as an evening with Sebastian sounds like fun, your aversion to photographs has become a bit of a complex.  
"Chris, help me out here, man." You hear Sebastian hand the phone over to someone,  
"Hey, is this Y/N?"  
"Um... Yeah?" You answer. You know that voice. Your fangirl heart is giddy when you hear that voice. You can't believe the man attached to that voice just said your name.  
"I gotta tell you, Sebastian has told us all a lot about you, he's been singing your praises for weeks now. I've gotta meet this woman he won't shut up about, so while you're likely way out of his league, would you please sink to his level long enough to be his date to this premiere?"  
It takes you a while to even find your voice again, but now that Chris Evans is talking about how much he wants to meet you, how are you supposed to say no?  
"I guess I'll have to be there, then."  
.  
.  
.  
"Are you okay?" Sebastian asks for the hundredth time already tonight  
The car is slowing to a stop at the end of what looks like an endless carpet  
"Of course, why do you keep asking?"   
By way of answering, he rests his hand firmly on your leg, halting your bouncing knee.  
"Oh. Sorry."  
"You're sure you're okay with this?"   
"Sebastian, how many times do I have to tell you? Yes, I'm okay. I won't freak out. I'll even try to have fun."  
You stare at him for a few seconds as he looks at the size of the crowd that's accumulated, all watching the cars expectantly. Something finally occurs to you, "Sebastian, are YOU okay with this?"   
"Yeah, sure. Just another premiere." He shrugs it off, but you can hear his hesitation. Taking his hand from where it's still sitting on your knee, you can feel how much he's shaking. You take his chin in your hand, making him look at you.  
"Let's go to a movie."   
His lips quirk into a smile, and you see his gaze flicker down to your lips. It's just a moment, and he quickly checks himself, but keeps a hold on your hand.  
The door is opened for the both of you, he slides out, giving a quick wave to the crowd calling for him, then turns back to you, offering his hand. The first thing that hits you is the noise; the deafening roar of fans and interviewers screaming names, desperately vying for the attention of their favorite stars. Then the endless, blinding glitter of flashes from hundreds of photographers and thousands of fans.   
The two of you have only made it a few yards down the carpet when he stops you with a gentle hand on your waist, turning you toward a mass of photographers. You know you're looking like a deer in the headlights, but Sebastian leans in close, speaking right into your ear,  
"Don't think about it."  
"Easy for you to say mister movie star." You retort, making him laugh,  
"Think about how many ways you could criticize their technique, then." You snort, but are already critiquing them unintentionally. That one, for instance, doesn't seem to know how to frame his shots correctly; the guy next to him keeps getting jostled, he'll be lucky to get any usable photos; even the folks in the front of the line look amateur to you with their hasty, even pushy, style.   
You finally feel the hand on your waist pulling you farther down the line.   
"See? Not so bad." You shoot him a withering glance as he directs you through three more photo ops before pulling you forward to an interviewer.   
"Sebastian Stan, it's so wonderful to see you tonight," the woman gushes,  
"We heard rumors you wouldn't be able to make it because you're currently filming on another project."  
"Oh, yeah. Coming close to the finish line on that one, but I got the weekend off, figured I should use it wisely and come see the amazing fans here." He turns and waves to the crowd behind him, the screaming becoming even louder,  
"And you didn't come alone, I noticed."  
"I did not, this is Y/N, a very good friend of mine." The interviewer surprises you by actually shaking your hand. You were expecting, and on some level actually hoping, that you would essentially be ignored tonight,  
"Just a friend, huh?" She says in a suggestive tone,  
"Yes. Just a friend." You insist, trying to keep up a pleasant smile.  
You can see this suggestion becoming a trend when the two of you stop for a third interview,  
"The Winter Soldier himself is here tonight," the man speaks into his camera as an introduction before turning to Sebastian, "It's only been, what, a month since you split with Levieva? And you're already stepping out with a new lady friend."  
You can feel his arm tense around your back,  
"About two months, actually. And there's nothing wrong with bringing a friend to a premiere, right?"  
While the guy seems to sense he crossed a line somewhere, he also doesn't look like he's planning on changing the subject,   
"So it's officially over for you two, huh? Or will we see some on-again off-again action?"  
"Hey, We've gotta get going, but you have a great night, pal." His easy smile looks genuine, but he's just short of crushing you into his side with his pent up annoyance.  
"Sorry about that. You never know what they're gonna ask." You try to offer a sympathetic smile, but he doesn't seem to want to make eye contact.  
"Don't worry about it. Really." You cross your arm under his, wrapping around his back, returning the side-hug he has maintained since the first photo-op. You notice that you've nearly come to the end of the carpet, and he finally looks at you with his customary easy smile,  
"Let's go to a movie." He says.  
You are about to respond, but never get the chance.  
"Sea bass!" Sebastian's head whips around until he finds the source of the voice, soon you're surrounded by men hugging out their greetings and clapping each other on the shoulders.  
"Guys!" Sebastian beams, "This is Y/N." You take a closer look at the few men who bombarded him and finally realize that you recognize them all.  
"Y/N, these are the guys."


	8. Chapter 8

"The guys?"   
"Y/N, meet Anthony, James, and Chris. I know you know Mackie and Evans, James is my stunt double. He also choreographed all of the fights you're about to see."  
"Stunt double, huh? Didn't have the guts to do it yourself?" You tease him, earning some laughs from the small group, "It's great to meet you guys," you turn your attention to the three men before you.   
"You too," Chris steps forward, taking you by surprise as he pulls you into a hug, "we've heard a lot about you, it's nice to finally put a face with the stories."   
"Stories?" You repeat, looking warily at Sebastian. "Plural?" He just shrugs at you,  
"Nothing bad, I promise." Mackie cuts in,  
"Most of the time it's just us trying to figure out what he's laughing at." James explains, "I swear, every time I turn around, I find him in a corner smiling like a doof at his phone."  
"Okay, now. I think it's time to get inside." Sebastian says quickly, trying to herd the group indoors.  
"I make you smile like a doof, do I?" You ask him, feeling something like pride at being able to make him smile,  
"You already knew that." He answers simply, his eyes sparkling with unspoken meaning.   
You're promptly shown to your seats where you find yourself seated between Sebastian and Anthony, with Chris only two seats away.   
The lights go down.  
The movie begins.  
You and Sebastian spend the entire opening credits fighting over the arm rest before he surrenders,  
"It's all mine next time." He whispers quickly as the intro begins to play,  
"Who says there will be a next time?" You whisper back playfully,   
"Shh, I'm trying to watch a movie." He teases, closing the subject. You shake your head at him, trying to keep your giggles silent, and soon you find yourself swept into his world of superheroes, brainwashing, and civil war.  
.  
.  
.  
Yet again, you find yourself in the corner at another after party.  
You've been trying to stay away from the open bar, determined to avoid another morning like last time, but Sebastian has insisted on bringing you something to drink twice already.   
"Just the two drinks, I swear." He assured you, "it'll calm your nerves and it won't be enough for you to lose the night."  
You didn't want to admit it, but he was right. Otherwise you probably wouldn't have been able to sit so calmly beside Chris Evans and chat about photography like you were old friends.  
"So why haven't you opened your own studio yet?" He presses, "Seb has already shown us some of your work, your eye is unbelievable." You blush at the compliment,  
"Thanks, but ultimately I don't actually want my own studio."   
"I thought he said--"  
"He probably did. That's my backup plan. It's the goal that I actually tell people about. My shoot-for-the-stars dream is actually selling my work, holding my own exhibitions. That kind of thing." He perks up,  
"That sounds great!"  
"Doesn't exactly pay the bills though." You sigh,  
"It could."  
"But it's not a guarantee. I need to do something that will keep a roof over my head and food in the fridge, which is hard enough already."  
"I bet you could do it, though." You huff out a disbelieving chuckle, quickly seeing that he is just as stubborn as you are, "If you're that worried, you know what you should get yourself?" You send him a questioning look, "A sugar daddy." Taking him seriously for a moment, you're sure you look horrified at the suggestion, especially since he immediately doubles over,  
"I'm kidding." He pats your shoulder, "But seriously, I've got faith in you. I bet you could do it."  
"You don't even know me, Evans."  
"That's what you think." He laughs, "That kid over there," he nods at Sebastian who's currently laughing at something one of the writers is reminiscing about, "has talked about you almost non-stop since he met you."  
"Sorry," You grimace, "Bet that was so interesting." He just looks at you with an expression close to approval,   
"It really was."   
Your conversation is halted suddenly when a body flops down beside you on the couch.   
"How are my best friends?" Sebastian slurs, throwing his arm across your shoulder. He pulls you into him and plants a quick kiss on the top of your head,  
"Havin fun there, Seb?" Chris asks, amused.  
"How much have you had tonight, dude?" You ask Sebastian as you push away from him, your nose wrinkling against the smell of beer.  
"Probably too much." He laughs,  
"Then maybe it's time to get going." You reply, still squirming away. He hums, pulling you back to him,  
"Your place or mine?" He sniggers,  
"Very funny. You're not coming home with me."  
"It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to get him to bed, though." Chris's suggestion is promptly met by more snickering from Sebastian.   
"You know you are an actual six-year-old when you're drunk?" You sigh at him,  
"How would you know?" You stare at him, "Come on, you don't even remember that night. You said so yourself."   
"What night?" Chris cuts in, intrigued,  
"Nothing, let's get you home, man." You try to drop the conversation,   
"Aw, come on! I'm so out of the loop!"  
"The night we met, we both got pretty wasted." Sebastian blurts out, a little louder than necessary, "It was pretty awkward waking up together the next morning, barely remembered each other's names, and we had just been talking about not wanting--"  
"Sebastian!" You yelp, cutting him off and quickly covering your face in embarrassment,  
"You two... Really?"   
Your evident anger seems to be sobering for Sebastian, who at least has the decency to look sheepish at his over share,  
"Sorry..." Sebastian begins, "He's one of my best friends, it just slipped."  
"Hey, I got no room to judge," Chris says, "it happens to everyone sometime, right?" You're still so mortified you can't even manage to look at either of them, "You just seem like you hit it off, so I'm surprised that, after something like that, you aren't actually together."   
You and Sebastian share a look, and even in his drunken state, you can see something like regret in his eyes.  
"It's a long story." He echoes your words, not breaking eye contact with you,  
"Fair enough." Chris concedes, letting the subject drop.  
"I should get home though," Sebastian sighs, glancing at his watch. The three of you stand at the same time. You stop Chris as he starts to call a cab,   
"Oh, don't worry about it. Enjoy the rest of the party, I'll make sure he gets home safe. It was fantastic meeting you." You try to shake Chris's hand,  
"You kidding me?" He pulls you into another bear hug, you're thinking you could definitely get used to this kind of interaction with him, "You better keep in touch. I wanna know when your first exhibition is."  
With a half joking agreement, you help Sebastian out of the lounge, into a cab, as soon as it takes off, his head is lolling over onto your shoulder. After several blocks of silence, you think he's dozed off, but then he speaks up,  
"You look beautiful tonight, by the way." He slurs, sounding half asleep,  
"Thanks."  
"I mean, you always look beautiful," you snort, "no, really." He forces his head up to look at you, "I see how you walk, hunching your shoulders and ducking your head. You sit the same way, like you're trying to fold in on yourself."  
"Old habit from when I was little a teenager, trying to disappear and pass by unnoticed. I think it's a cool superpower, actually."  
"No you don't." He calls you out, holding your gaze. As he leans closer, the cab comes to a stop, interrupting you both.  
You should probably call it a night. You should say goodbye now, let him go and get some sleep.  
But what kind of friend would you be if you just let him stumble his way into his apartment, all alone, to pass out wherever he pleases?  
"Let's get you tucked in, Stan." You take his hand, helping him lead his unsteady legs into his building. You let him lean on you all the way to the elevator, where he throws his arm over your shoulder and rests his cheek on the top of your head. You watch him stumble through his front door and begin to shed layers, his jacket just missing the coat hook by the door, his bow tie flung over the arm of the couch,   
"You know, I can actually take care of myself." He says, trying to assure you as he toes off his shoes, but promptly kicks the end table beside his couch, making him grasp his shin and howl several words you're fairly sure aren't even English. His already compromised balance gives way and he crumples, non too gracefully, to the floor, his pained groans puttering into pitiful whimpers,  
"I can see that." You try not to laugh, you really do, but the sight is too much for you and you settle for muffling your snickers behind your hand.   
"Oh just go home." Sebastian whines, "Especially if you're just gonna laugh at me."   
"Aw, come on, I'm not laughing at--" the look he sends you makes you swallow your words, "okay I'm laughing at you. But trust me, if you'd seen that, you would be laughing too."   
His head starts drooping again, and you can see he's struggling to stay awake.   
"Come on," you tug on his arm, "you can't sleep on the floor." He groans in response, "You would regret it in the morning, trust me. You're not as young as you think." You receive a scandalized look,  
"I'll have you know--"  
"That you won't be able to get up in the morning if you sleep on this hard floor." You interrupt.  
"I'd be fine. I'm fit as a fiddle." You let your eyes wander, taking in the product of his months of obviously hard work.   
"That you are." You mutter,   
"Hmm?"   
"Just get up."   
You finally convince him to trudge his way to his bedroom, where you practically brush his teeth for him then force him to drink a couple of glasses of water before he starts whining again.  
"You'll thank me in the morning." He flops onto his mattress with another groan, apparently beyond words at this stage of tipsy fatigue. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." You whisper, thinking twice about giving him a kiss on the forehead before trying to sneak out. You feel a hand in yours when you try to turn away,  
"Why aren't you staying?"   
"Why would I? You don't need me."  
"I always need you." He slurs so heavily you almost don't understand him.   
You sigh,  
"An actual six-year-old, Stan." His eyes are closed, face is half buried in his pillow, slowly relaxing, but you still catch a hint of a smile creeping across his slack mouth. "Scoot over already." His eyes open slightly, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Scrambling out of the way to make room for you, he almost shuffles off the other side of the bed.  
You curl up beside him, your dress less than ideal for use as a nightgown, but with no slip, it would have to suffice. He wraps his arms around you immediately, nuzzling his face into your hair, all the while you wonder if you should have just said goodnight back at the cab.  
"You could never be invisible to me." He whispers into your shoulder.  
You're glad he isn't conscious to see the tear you can't control as it rolls down your cheek.   
As much as you just want to stay like this, wrapped up with Sebastian, hearing his heartfelt whispers, laughing at each other all night, you can't put yourself through that again. This can't be more than just this. He can't be more than your friend. You won't risk going through that again.


	9. Chapter 9

Your first thought is of warmth. It's all over, wrapped around you, relaxing every muscle, making you feel utterly safe. Cracking an eye open, you're met with the sight of a slumbering Sebastian, and you're reminded of the amusing petulance of the night before. He stirs, sighing in his sleep as he pulls you impossibly closer, his scruff rasping against your forehead. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes softly, and you quickly wrinkle your nose at the smell of morning breath mingled with stale beer. Pushing away from him reflexively, you unintentionally rouse him. As you see him trying to open his eyes you register the brightness of the room and jump out of bed, lunge across the room and wrench his drapes closed, nearly tripping on your flowing skirt in the process. He groans, rubbing his eyes, and squints into the dusty light of the room. You notice him freeze when he sees you, but he doesn't say anything, he just stares. After a few seconds you start to feel self conscious,   
"What?" You ask finally. He shakes his head gently,  
"Nothing." Regardless of the curiosity sparked by the goofy smile on his face, you decide not to press him.  
You can't see the halo of light edging around you from the part in the curtains at your back; you have no idea how it shines through the sapphire chiffon of your premiere dress, or how otherworldly it makes you seem; how could you know that all Sebastian could think of right then is how you look like an angel.  
"How do you feel?" You ask, careful to keep your voice low,  
"Kinda like I'm gonna puke, but otherwise, not too bad. What about you?"   
"Oh, I'll be fine," you chuckle, "didn't have near as much 'fun' as you."  
He looks to be about to say something, but he's cut off by your phone ringing in your purse across the room.  
Wrestling it from the depths of your bag, you groan when you see the caller ID.   
"Hey," Marcus greets warily,  
"What's up?" You reply, "Did you not get those grad prints? Because I sent them in a week ago--"  
"No, that's not it, I was just wondering..." You can just picture him pacing back and forth in front of his desk, raking his fingers through his hair, "is there any possibility of you saving my life and coming in to work today?"  
"Are you kidding? Please tell me you're kidding."   
"I got a last minute engagement shoot, and that on top of three rounds of family portraits may just be the what kills me. Especially if I have to do it alone."  
"I'm off this weekend, man, come on!"  
"I know, and you know I wouldn't call if I didn't absolutely need it."   
"There's no way you can reschedule someone?"  
"You think I didn't already try that? If you can't come in, I'm going to have to take a loss on this."  
You know all too well how crabby he gets when he has to cancel an appointment or he loses business.  
After a long suffering sigh and a minute or so of mentally switching gears, ditching any plans you'd made for your day off, which usually consisted of spending the afternoon in random parts of the city with your camera, or staying in bed all day with a book. You prepare yourself for work and finally concede. It's not like you could actually tell him no anyway, bosses generally don't like that.  
"You're a life saver."  
"You have to give me about an hour and a half to get ready, though." He pauses,  
"Oh... Really? I thought you lived closer than that. I guess that could work... I'll get started on the prep now, but it's stretching it."  
"That's every minute I can spare. I'm not exactly prepared."  
"You don't need make up or anything like that, you know--"  
"No, Marcus, I'm... I'm not at home."  
"Wait, like out of town? I didn't realize--"  
"Not out of town, just... I have to stop by my apartment and grab a few things and I'll be there as soon as I can after that."  
You end the call as soon as you can after that and look apologetically at Sebastian, draped across the bed on his stomach, limbs flailed out in all directions, obviously staving off a headache.  
"One of these days, I'll get to have breakfast with you." He mutters into the mattress. You laugh lightly,  
"If you plan on making a habit out of getting sloppy drunk every night, I may have to stage an intervention now."   
"Not making a habit out of this." He groans, "Definitely not."  
"Go back to sleep." You whisper, pulling the covers back over him, "Get a good cup of coffee when you can stand up without feeling seasick, and don't you dare forget to rehydrate. At least you don't have to go to work out of the blue."  
"Can I at least pay for your cab?" He asks pitifully,  
"Way to make me feel like a call-girl, Stan." You chuckle,  
"Sorry. I just feel bad." He groans again,  
"I can tell."  
The two of you share a long look before you make your way home, ignoring the looks from those who notice your ultra formal breakfast attire.  
.  
.  
.  
When you make it to the studio Marcus is finishing up with one of his portrait appointments. He sees them out after the customary paperwork and letting them know when their portraits would be ready. When the door closed behind them, he immediately rounds on you, making you shrink back,  
"Where have you been?"  
"I already told you, this is the soonest I could manage considering the completely last minute request. On my day off."   
You ditch your bag on a chair in the corner and check his schedule to see what he needed to be set up for next,  
"I thought you only live twenty minutes away on foot."  
"I already told you." You sigh, "I wasn't at home."  
You can tell it's his stress level that's making him argumentative, but it's hard not to take the tone personally. You both know you don't have time to explain, much less fight about it, so you get to work. Each of you works silently, tension thick in the air. You try to brush it off, call it nerves and fatigue from over booking, especially for the sake of the rest of his appointments show up. You do your best to seem pleasant when you're dragging from a night of partying and a less than grateful greeting from your boss.  
Almost six hours later, the engagement shoot, the last appointment on the books, is wrapped. The couple leaves happy, which is really all Marcus can ask for at this point. As soon as they step out, the facade dissolves and the tension is back. You begin cleaning up, wanting nothing more than to be heading home,  
"You were with that actor again last night weren't you?" Marcus cuts into your thoughts suddenly. It takes a moment to realize what he is asking,  
"You mean my friend? Yeah, I was."  
"You went back to his place with him after that premiere..."  
"He had too much to drink at the after party and I helped him get home. How do you even know--"  
"And then you stayed the night."  
"Yes. I did. What's your point?"  
He's quiet for a long time, seemingly wrestling with his words,  
"I just... I don't want to see you get..."   
"What? Pregnant? Hurt?"  
"Used. Tossed away when he gets bored."  
"You think he'll get bored of me? Am I not good enough for him or something?"  
"That's not what I said. I just-- I don't think he's good for you... Or good enough for you."  
"And you are?"  
He gulps. Sighs.  
Oh.  
"Marcus--"  
"Just listen for a second..."  
"No. You're my boss, what are you thinking?"  
"I'm only your boss?" He looks both hurt and frustrated,  
"Of course! And if you don't see the impropriety in this, then maybe I should go." You turn away, abandoning the pretense of cleaning in favor of gathering your things,  
"I thought you knew." He says so low you barely hear him, but he sounds so defeated it makes you pause, "I thought you could tell. I've just never felt like it was ever the right time to say anything."  
"Well, you were right." You turn away again.   
Out. You just need out.  
"I don't need you to pick my friends, Marcus. And that's all Sebastian is, by the way. A friend. Not that it's any of your business." You finally locate your bag and sling it over your shoulder.   
"If you don't need me, why even bother sticking around? This obviously isn't what you want to do, I don't think it ever had been."  
"It's a paycheck. A means to an end, Marcus, that's all." Your words come out with a little more venom than you intend, but you've had enough, "if you can't bring yourself to stifle these feelings you apparently have then maybe... Maybe I should be looking for another job." Your voice wavers slightly at the weight of your words, and his astonishment doesn't go unnoticed,  
"Maybe you should." He whispers finally.   
With a deep breath, you're out the door, fear settling in your stomach, churning your insides.  
Just walk.  
You quit your job. Rent is due soon.  
Walk.  
Breathe.  
You can't breathe.   
You let your feet lead you as you try to calm down, and find yourself staring at a door.   
A familiar room number that isn't yours.  
You must have knocked, because someone is already answering,  
"Hey... What's wrong?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger warning! The next chapter will be up very very soon, just not immediately, so I figured I'd give you a heads up.

"Hey... what's wrong?"  
Two years you've been working with Marcus.   
Now it's done. Just like that.  
"I think... I just quit my job." You breathe. Sebastian doesn't say anything as he looks at you, eyebrows raised. He pulls you into his apartment.  
"What happened?" He's still squinting, voice low, his hair is sticking up at odd angles. In the back of your mind it occurs to you that he probably fell back asleep when you left and has been there ever since.  
You open your mouth to explain but nothing comes out.   
What did happen? Did you actually quit?  
"I was... He just..." You just can't get the words out,  
"Hey, it's fine. It's okay." He hugs you close, tucking your head under his chin, the tears you didn't realize we're falling are now soaking into his T-shirt. "It's gonna be alright. You'll be just fine, I know it."   
You want to nod, but you can't bring yourself to agree. What about rent? What about food? How long would it take to find another job?  
He doesn't rush you, he just holds you tight, rubbing your back until you pull back a little bit, the anxiety now curdling in your stomach,   
"You feeling any better?" He asks hopefully,  
"Kinda like I'm gonna puke, what about you?" His eyes shine like he wants to laugh day his words echoed back to him, but he also knows now isn't the time,  
"A little better. Still not a hundred percent, though." He throws his arm back across your shoulders, leading you to the couch, "So let's take the rest of the evening to watch stupid movies and ignore the rest of the world." He makes you flop down onto the couch next to him,  
"But I have to find--"  
"You can go job hunting tomorrow. Or, better yet, the day after. Right now you need to relax, get yourself to calm down, think about what you want to do. Don't rush into another dead end just because you're worried about how to pay rent."  
"But how am I supposed to pay my rent?"   
"What did I just tell you?" He chuckles. "Pick a movie."  
"I can't think about that right now." You sigh, leaning forward and letting your head drop into your hands. Your stomach was growing increasingly upset and the more you dwelled on it, the worse it got.  
"Pick a movie." Sebastian says again, though even gentler this time.  
You finally cave and drag yourself to his entertainment center, opening the drawer that housed most of his movies.  
You stifle a giggle as you pop in a movie you haven't seen in years. When Sebastian cues up the menu he lets out a loud belly laugh,  
"RENT? A little on the nose there."   
"I actually love this musical, thank you very much, and you told me to pick a movie."  
"You're right. I did."   
You both settle into the couch, legs flung over armrests, shoulders leaned against each other. After the opening number, a song about not being able to make rent, of course, Sebastian speaks up. Almost letting himself be drowned out by the movie,  
"I could do it." You look at him, confused,  
"What? Broadway? I bet you could. And I definitely expect to be at that premiere!" You're only half kidding, though you've never actually heard him sing,   
"No, not Broadway. I could pay your rent for you." You grimace,  
"You're not paying my rent." You turn back to the movie,  
"I could." He pauses it so you have no distractions, "If something gets in the way of you finding work before rent is due next month, I'll pay it for you."  
"Seb, I don't like owing people like that."   
"You wouldn't owe me anything..."  
"I'm not going to let you pay for me."  
"If it was between losing your apartment and biting back your pride to accept help, would you really refuse?"   
Yes, he had a point. No you didn't want to talk about it, and he could tell.   
"Just keep it in mind."  
The anxiety from your fight with Marcus rolls back over you, bringing torrents of nausea with it. Your stomach gurgles and you jump up suddenly, surprising Sebastian as he's un-pausing the movie, and you make a mad dash for the bathroom.   
You hardly have anything to vomit up, but your stomach insists, and you're crumbling to your knees at Sebastian's commode, yet again, as your stomach wrings itself out.  
When you've finally finished, you're distantly aware of a cool cloth on the back of your neck and mopping across your forehead,  
"You know, for a girl who can drink like you can, you sure have a sensitive stomach." He jokes, sitting down beside you, resting his back against his tub,   
"You don't have anything to worry about. There are so many of us who will make sure you're doing just fine. Your parents, your friends... Me... Besides, you know that wasn't what you wanted to do forever."   
"I know..." You concede with a groan,  
"How did you even get into it?"  
You haul yourself up, Sebastian holding your elbow for stability, and buy yourself some time by washing your mouth, trying to find the words, wondering if you really wanna go through this story.   
"I've actually known Marcus for a while now." You begin with a sigh, "We met in college, back when he thought he wanted to be a history major." Sebastian pats the ground next to him when you pause, sensing this will be a long story, "After a while, he changed to photography and we started seeing even more of each other. I always kinda got the feeling he had a thing for me, but didn't want to bring it up and sound presumptuous or vain." You flop down next to Sebastian, stomach still on edge, but gradually calming, "We dated for a heartbeat right after Adam, my actor boyfriend, and I split. It didn't last long, not so soon after such an ugly break up. I think it was more of a rebound than anything, so we broke it off after about a month. He kept telling me he was okay with it, that he wanted to stay friends, that it wouldn't be weird... He convinced me it was true to the point that I was able to justify working for him when he opened his studio. I needed a job. He needed an assistant. I'd be working with a friend." You close your eyes, shaking your head with another sigh, "Am I making a mistake?" You frown at Sebastian, "Should I call him and apologize? Maybe I should just go back--" You try to stand, you need to call Marcus, but you're stopped by a hand on your wrist,  
"I think you need to take some time." He says seriously, "This is the perfect opportunity to find the career that you want, start making a living doing something that makes you happy instead of barely making rent at a job that makes you feel stuck."  
You settle back down slowly, knowing he's probably right.  
"I can't do that."  
"Yeah you can."   
"But--"  
"You can."  
You sigh, surrendering. After a few more minutes you realize,   
"We're missing our movie, aren't we?"   
"Yeah, probably." He laughs.   
.  
.  
.  
After spending the rest of the evening at his place, ordering pizza for dinner, watching two more movies, chosen completely at random (Snatch and Blade Trinity, one of the oddest double-features you've ever had) you decided to call it a night, ignoring Sebastian's protests.  
"Come on, neither of us has work tomorrow. All nighter!"  
"We may not have work tomorrow, but the next day, I'm pretty sure you have somewhere to be, and I need to start job hunt--"  
"Nope. You will not go job hunting until you know what you want to do."  
You roll your eyes, not bothering to start that argument again, you were so tired.  
The two of you make plans to meet up again the next night for a proper movie night: plenty of drinks, more food, candy, and pre-approved movies that may actually compliment each other. You also promised him you wouldn't let yourself think about finding a job until the weekend was over.  
You really would try.  
The next morning, however, you wake up sick again. You've never done well with anxiety.   
You force yourself to find something to eat, regardless of how it may settle, for the sake of having something in your stomach.   
The only thing you can stand the thought of is cereal, but opening your jug of milk, you smell it out of habit and find it sour. Your stomach lurches again, nearly throwing up all over your kitchen floor.  
You check the date, you could have sworn it was still good... Until you glance at your calendar. Was it really the end of the month? Inching close to the end of summer?   
'How could it possibly be so late in the year already?' You wonder wistfully, but then, your heart plummets as another realization hits you: your little red "x" reminder on that particular day of the month.   
That day that has come and gone.  
That day that came two weeks after your night with Sebastian.  
"No..." You whisper, doing the math in your head, trying to remember, "no way." But you remember that day, you know you should have started, and you know nothing happened.  
This isn't good.  
This is very much not good.  
You're late.


	11. Chapter 11

You listen to the rapid, rhythmic squeaking of your tennis shoes on the tile of your bathroom.  
Breathe.  
You're perched on the edge of the tub, bouncing your leg in anticipation, trying not to go crazy as you wait.  
Breathe.  
You force yourself not to check the timer. It must be close now, right?  
Breathe.  
DING  
You're sure your heart stops. You can't breathe anymore. You inch forward, shaking.  
Test 1: positive.   
A little farther,  
Test 2: positive.  
No no no...  
Test 3: positive.  
You sink to the ground, curling in on yourself, the tile freezing against your back as you cry silently. How could this happen?   
How could you get pregnant again?  
.  
.  
.  
"Hey! Now the party can start for real!" Mackie calls behind him to the guys when he opens the door to you. Apparently when Sebastian said 'proper movie night', he meant full-blown party, because there were already half a dozen people present, each seemingly with their own spot staked out on various cushioned surfaces.   
Not exactly the setting you were hoping for when you did this.  
"Hey! Just in time," Sebastian emerges from the kitchen, "we were just about to get started. You thirsty?" You shake your head, trying to think of the best way to start. "You okay? You look kinda pale, you're not still sick are you?"   
You suppose if you don't do it now, you never will, so before you can think,  
"Actually, can I talk to you for a second?" You try to make it sound nonchalant, but you still keep your voice low,  
"You feelin' sick, girl?" Mackie asks, obviously concerned,  
"I'm... I'm fine, it'll only take a second, I promise." Sebastian looks a little worried,   
"Kitchen?" He suggests, gesturing for you to lead the way, "Go ahead and get it started, we'll catch up." You hear him tell Mackie before following you.   
The kitchen door swings shut behind the two of you, muffling the laughter and conversation in the living room. You know you're shaking, but you can't get a handle on your nerves, you've never been too good at jumping head first into things like this. You flounder for what feels like an eternity, unable to find the right words. Should you just come out wit it? Should you try to ease him in?  
"You're really scaring me." Sebastian turns you to look at him, holding onto your shoulders and looking you straight in the eyes, "You're shaking, what's going on?"  
"I... This morning..." You take a deep breath. Just tell him. "You know how I've been sick a lot in the last month?"  
"Yeah... Wait, did you go to the doctor? Are you okay? Did they find something?"  
"No, it's not like that, I'm fine... I'm..." Your voice wavers, you can't catch your breath, "I'm pregnant." It's little more than a whisper, at least that's all you can hear over your pulse roaring in your ears.  
He blinks.  
Gulps.  
"You're what?"   
You hear how his breath shortens,  
"I'm pregnant."   
"But... Am I... I'm not the--"  
"The father?" You give him a meaningful look that makes him release your shoulders, raking his fingers through his hair as he takes in a few shaky breaths, steps back and turns his back to you.  
"But it was only the one time." He faces you again, looking shaken, "that was what... A month ago now?"  
"Believe it or not, Sebastian, that's all it really takes." You mutter sardonically,  
"And you're just figuring it out now?" His voice is gradually raising in volume, his accusing tone bristling your limited patience,  
"Oh, of course not, I actually found out the day it happened, I just felt like I'd keep it to myself until things were going better with us, and then completely blindside you with it." You know the sass isn't helping, but you can't bring yourself to care anymore. He takes a deep breath, abruptly turning away from you again. From the tension across his back, you know he's trying to calm himself down. After all the instances he's proven his compassion, proven he cares, you can't help but be disappointed in him now.  
He finally breaks the silence,   
"I can't do this." He says quietly, more fear than conviction in his voice, but your heart plummets just the same, "I don't have time for a family right now, I'm always working, or on the road... I can't do it."  
"You're almost acting like I did this on purpose, but I'm not too thrilled about it either!" The silence stretches between you again. So many things you feel you should say, things you could say, but before either of you are able to speak up, you're both called from the living room,  
"Come on, guys, you're missing the best parts!" Mackie urges,  
"It's literally ten minutes in, man." You're pretty sure that was Evans' voice,  
"So the whole movie is the best part, still, they're missing it." Mackie defends.  
"You know what..." You begin, "I wasn't even asking you to be a father. I just thought I should let you know what's going on. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea." You brush past him, heading straight to the front door. Maybe if you don't think about it, it will be easier this time.  
You make it through the living room as quickly as you can, with a fake apology and a halfhearted excuse to the rest of the group.  
Just make it to the hallway.   
Just make it to the hallway.  
You remember another time, a similar walk, all alone. A door slammed shut behind you. He had reacted the same way Sebastian had. Didn't want anything to do with it.  
You think you can hear someone running after you this time, think you hear Sebastian calling you.   
You're halfway down the hall.  
Someone grabs your arm, spinning you around to look at them,  
"Please don't leave like this," Sebastian pleads, you try to wrench your arm out of his grasp. You see Chris appear at the door several paces behind him, he opens his mouth to speak, probably ask what's going on, but quickly closes it sensing the tension in the air. He backs into the apartment, giving the two of you privacy.  
"What do you expect me to do? Neither of us wants this."  
He grasps for words, wanting so badly to disagree, but he just can't bring himself to. You can't stand the guilt and fear in his eyes any more.   
"Don't worry about it. Just forget I said anything." You sigh,  
"How am I supposed to forget something like that? You just told me I'm going to be a father." You take a deep breath, pulling away from him,  
"I didn't say that. I said I'm pregnant." His brow furrows in confusion, "Listen, it's still early enough I can... I'll take care of it. Don't worry about it."   
It takes him a second to catch on, but when he does, he actually looks hurt.   
"Wait, you're--"  
"Just go back to your party. I'm not really up for a movie night tonight."  
"But--"  
"Just go." He looks like he wants to reach for you again but thinks twice.  
You steel yourself against the guilt twisting at your heart as you turn away, leaving him alone in the hall. You both want things to be like they were.   
He'll get over it.  
Just like you did last time.


	12. Chapter 12

It's been two days since that movie night, both spent dodging calls and texts, finding a place that could get you an appointment as close to immediately as possible. Now you're sitting in the waiting room, biting your nails, trying to distract yourself. You count the white washed ceiling tiles; mentally noting the monotony of the decor: the grey-purple upholstered chairs lining the walls, nearly matching the color of the somewhat worn carpeting; the one coffee table in the middle of the room, the light brown paneling and vase of silk flowers atop giving the impression of an attempt to bring warmth to the area.   
You're alone.  
Again.  
With the exception of the receptionist, who seemed pleasant enough, you've only seen two other women, each leaving after their exams, screenings, interviews, whatever they made an appointment for. Not too surprising for a Wednesday afternoon.  
In the back of your mind, you wonder if you could manage to make this room seem more welcoming if you held a shoot here. Some well used lighting to try to hide the dinginess of the old wall paper, maybe some editing to enrich the colors. You could also bring in--  
"Miss Y/L/N?" A nurse interrupts your thoughts, "We're ready for you."  
Your body moves on autopilot and somehow you end up in an office, sitting across from the nurse who called your name,   
"How are you feeling today?" She asks gently, you shrug, your voice not cooperating, "I just wanted to make sure we had everything squared away so we can get you started. Now, first things first, you have an understanding of our policies and procedures?" She asks, waiting for a response,  
"Yeah, uh..." You clear your throat, steadying your gravelly voice, the sound so loud the the quiet space, "This isn't exactly the first time."  
She nods in understanding, gathering some papers and sliding them across the desk to you,  
"I'm just going to need a couple of signatures and medical history information, you can take your time and read through as thoroughly as you'd like, but I do need you to at least skim these pages. I can show you to a room where you'll have some privacy if you'd like."  
You nod lightly, accepting the offer.  
You're shown to what looks like another office and you start to read. You aren't even paying attention, your gaze sliding over words about patients and procedures and fetuses. You go through the motions to make the nurse feel better, after the first page, your mind wanders.   
'Think about anything but this.' You tell yourself.  
You try to remember what all you need to buy when you go grocery shopping this weekend, whether you should tell Amy what's going on, if you should stop ignoring the texts and calls you've been getting from Sebastian, if you should actually go through with this.  
You glance through the final pages about the recovery period, filling out your medical information, and finally make it to the last page.  
Your pen hovers over the signature line. This is it. You're fine. You'll just end this before it really becomes a problem, and you'll be more careful next time.  
You scratch half your first name into the paper.  
You could swear you heard a little kid somewhere outside, squealing and giggling on a playground, and you can't stop it, a flood of images play through your mind: you and Sebastian lounging in the park in the spring, his hand resting on your pregnant belly.   
Your heart clenches.   
You see him on his knees in the backyard of an imaginary home, teaching a little boy how to play catch. Tears fall on your incomplete signature as you see him rocking a newborn baby girl, half swaddled, her hands reaching up to his face.  
You can't do it.  
.  
.  
.  
You're running through the lobby, still sorting through fourteen text messages and six voicemails from Sebastian, all with the same general message:  
"I shouldn't have reacted like that."   
"Please let me know you're alright."  
"I'm really worried about you."  
"Could we please talk about this?"  
Incessantly tapping the up arrow on the elevator and bouncing from foot to foot with urgency, you haven't been able to stop the tears since you left the clinic. You had practically thrown your papers at the nurse at the front desk with a hasty apology for wasting their time. You're not sure any of it was intelligible, but you had to get out. You had to see him.   
This isn't like last time.  
As soon as the elevator doors let you out on Sebastian's floor, you nearly trip over your own feet running to his apartment. It's not until you're banging on his door that you realize he's supposed to be on his way to a shoot.   
Your knocks slow, soften, cease; you rest your forehead on the door, sliding down to your knees.  
You still can't stop crying.  
"Y/N?" You look up at your name to find Sebastian coming toward you. You stand just in time for him to half-tackle you, wrapping his arms around you, "I've been trying to get a hold of you." He breathes, keeping you close,   
"Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be shooting in Georgia or somewhere?"  
"I told them I had to hang back for a couple of days. Told them... Told them it was a family emergency." You don't know what to say, so you just hug him closer,  
"What about you? Are you... Are you okay?" He asks warily, preparing for your answer,  
"I couldn't." You sob. He looks you in the eye, obviously stunned, "I couldn't do it. I was going to. We aren't ready for this, Seb. But I just couldn't do it!" He pulls you inside,   
"You're still pregnant?" He finally asks, his tone guarded. You refuse to look him in the eyes as you nod tightly.   
"Thank God." He kisses you suddenly before you can respond, pressing close, but holding you gently. You don't push him away, instead you let your eyes fall shut, reveling in the comfort.  
When he pulls away with a sigh, he rests his forehead on yours,  
"I know what I said. And I know what you said. And if you still don't want to be with me, I'll understand." He pulls back to look at you,   
"I still don't know if we can do this, Seb."  
"I'm not saying we have to be together. But I want you to know, we are together in this."  
"But... I'm just..." The reason. The reason you don't think you can be with him. The reason you feel like you're losing your mind right now. "I'm so scared..." You whisper, hating that you can't get a handle on your tears,  
"I know." He replies, "I know... Me too." He tucks your head under his chin, smoothing your hair back. You let yourself rest for a while, let yourself be held, let yourself feel at home. That's when it occurs to you.  
"Um..." You pull back, "I need to make a phone call."   
"Oh, okay." He takes a deep breath, letting you go, "You can use my room if you want. I'll go make us some tea... Can you drink tea? Maybe it should be hot chocolate..."  
"Thank you." You stop him, "I'll just be a minute..."  
"We still have some talking to do." He finishes your thought. "I'll be waiting out here. Take your time." You nod, taking a steadying breath before closing yourself in his room.   
You stare at the contact for several minutes, talking yourself out of and back into this phone call at least a dozen times. Finally you make yourself dial.  
The line rings twice,  
"Hey, sweetheart, how are you?" The greeting both makes you smile and breaks your heart in line of the situation,  
"Hey mom..."


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh sweetheart." Your mother breathes as you stutter out the news,  
"I know. I don't know what to do."  
"Are you sure you are? How late are you?"  
"I've only missed one, but I took three different tests and they were all positive."  
"Have you seen your doctor yet?"  
"No, not yet, I just found out a couple of days ago."  
"What have you been doing that you haven't made an appointment?"   
You don't want to voice it. You don't want to tell her what you almost did, you remember the look on her face when she found out before and you can't do that again.  
"Honey, please tell me he didn't try to make you--"  
"No, he didn't. It was all me. Last time... It just fixed everything right?"  
"You know that isn't true. Unless you count that dog showing his true colors as 'fixing everything." You still harbor such wonder at how your mother manages to find fault with your ex when you were the one who made that decision. Didn't you?  
"Does he know?" Your dad chimes in. "This young man, I mean."   
Your parents put you on speaker when you said you had something important you needed to talk about,  
"Yeah, I told him almost as soon as I found out."  
"Good. Have you talked about what you're going to do?"  
"Not yet... I wanted to talk to you guys first."  
"What do you need from us?" Your mom asks.  
The weight of the situation settles heavily on your shoulders, you do your best to keep the tears out of your voice,  
"Tell me what to do." You plead.  
"Aw, hon this isn't one of those times. You and this young man are going to have to work things out on your own." Your mom admits sympathetically,  
"Let us know what you decide. Whatever it is, we'll still be here." Your dad assures you.  
"Thanks." You really do mean it, however weakly it comes out.  
After a farewell, promising to call them once something is decided, you hang up and just sit. As long as you stay here, you aren't talking about it, not risking the repeat, not facing anything, not having to be strong.  
But you can't stay here forever.  
Sneaking your way into the kitchen, you see Sebastian leaning with his hands on the counter, back to the room, head hanging forward; he already looks strained. The floorboard under your foot creaks and he spins around,  
"Hey," he sighs with an almost forced smirk, "nice chat?" You shrug.  
He sets two mugs on the table, one with cocoa, one with tea. You want to get this over with,  
"Can I ask you something before we do this?" He asks,  
"Maybe." You're not sure you're up for many questions,   
"Why didn't you go through with it?" Especially that one, so you try to skirt the question,  
"Look, there's a lot you still don't know about me,"  
"I understand that, but when you came back, why did you come to me? You could have gone straight to your parents, you could have gone to Amy... And why did you look so scared?"  
"Really? The idea of this whole thing isn't really a walk in the park. You don't exactly look laid back right now yourself." He winces, knowing you're right,  
"It was beyond that, though." He leans forward, almost thinking twice before letting his fingers graze your wrist, "please tell me what's wrong."  
All the memories of those fights and the lonely nights that followed came rushing back to you so quickly that you couldn't even bring yourself to cry over them. As they resurfaced from their deep graves, they only numbed you to the history you were about to pour out. Because of course you would tell Sebastian. He was slowly becoming one of your best friends.  
And at this point, he deserved to know.  
"You remember that actor ex I mentioned a while back?"  
"The one you always conveniently avoid telling me about? Yeah."  
"Well, he was very... Persuasive. I told you he made it impossible for me to really trust actors. He was manipulative and dishonest and unfaithful, and whenever we were fighting, he would always managed to spin the situation in a way that would end up with me apologizing... but that wasn't even the worst of it." You take a deep breath, your parents were the only other people who knew this, you hadn't even told your best friend.   
"We had been together about two years, and I had tried to bring up our future a few times, but he always brushed it off with some sort of 'lets just live in the moment' type speech, so I would let it drop. I thought we were in love and all that sad cliche crap. One thing is for sure, weren't careful enough... And I got pregnant."  
He looks surprised but doesn't interrupt, "He never explicitly told me to get an abortion... At least I don't think he did... but he made it clear that, first of all, he never wanted children, and second, he wouldn't stick around if I had one. Even if it was his." Suddenly Sebastian's expression changes, he scoots his chair around the table and scoops you up, cradling you in his lap, hugging you close.   
You can't breathe, but you slowly recognize that it isn't because of Sebastian's hug. It finally occurs to you that you're crying.  
You can tell he has something to say, but he keeps it to himself,   
"I tried to tell myself I didn't want it." You whisper, sniffling,  
"But...?" He prompts when you go silent,  
"But... I did." You sob, unable to contain the pitiful noise that escapes, "I thought I knew him. I thought we were forever... I thought I wanted us to be a family."  
He comforts you as you cry, letting you pour out the pain from being made to let go of your near-family.  
"Is that what you thought I wanted?" He finally asks quietly, "To cut ties and run?"  
"Can you blame me?" You ask, trying to keep the venom out of your voice. He still winces, remembering his reaction, "The whole thing felt like the first time around and I just couldn't stand it."  
"I'm so sorry I said all of that... As soon as you walked out the door, I realized it wasn't true. I was just scared."   
You pull back to look at him,   
"When you left I felt sick, like I couldn't have possibly handled the whole situation worse. While I don't think we have time for a baby, who does? This is something you have to make time for."   
You look at him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking,  
"But you're right. Maybe there isn't time for this because it isn't the right time.You know we don't actually have to do this, right?"   
"What do you mean?" He asks warily,  
"We don't have to raise a baby. We don't have to go through with this." Your voice sounds pitiful, like you're begging for something, but you don't know what. Are you wanting him to stay with you? Are you wanting your freedom? Do you just want things back the way they were a month ago: you in your apartment, alone, reading book after book, alone, and taking imaginary adventures, alone?  
His eyes flash, looking almost frantic,  
"Look, I know I don't get to tell you what to do with your body... But please don't go back there--"   
"That's not what I meant. I just mean I--we don't have to raise a baby... We can put it up for adoption."   
His expression goes blank, but something like disappointment flits behind his eyes,  
"...is that what you want?" He asks slowly,  
Yes...  
It is...   
Isn't it?  
You stare straight through him, remembering what you saw at the clinic: the swaddled baby girl, the little boy in the backyard.  
"...no..." You whisper, watching him carefully, preparing for the worst.  
It never comes.   
Instead you see a slight smile creep across his face, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek,  
"Good," he whispers, so close his breath tickles your lips, "because I don't either." he leans forward, then pauses, waiting this time, giving you the choice to pull back or meet him halfway.   
After a moment you realize this is actually what you want and you lean into him. The kiss is soft, meaningful, reassuring you as your arms find their way around his neck.  
"You're sure about this?" You ask, breaking away,  
"Positive." He smooths your hair back, "One of the things you made me realize when you walked out the other day is that I don't want to lose you." He opens his mouth to say more but then thinks better of it.  
"So we're doing this?" There's a tremble in your voice, relief that you're not going this alone, anticipation of what's coming, the potential for disaster,  
"We're doing this."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so sorry that it's taken so long to update. Sometimes after I write a chapter I have gone back and forth about so much if it, I had to leave it for a couple of days before I get a decent proofread, hopefully in the near future it will be better!

It's been two weeks since you bailed on your appointment. Two weeks since you told your parents. Two full weeks of trying to schedule a check up with your doctor, and two weeks of Sebastian practically living with you to make sure you don't need anything. The entire time had been a glorified hormonal roller coaster, one moment you're almost looking forward to this, the next, you are waiting for something to happen that will change it all back to how it was.   
Meanwhile, Sebastian doesn't take it personally when you check out, he just sticks close in case you need him, but gives you your space. He intercepts phone calls or texts you don't want to handle just yet, letting folks know you're alive but keeping all the details under wraps.  
You've decided to wait to tell any of your friends until you see your doctor. You're mom had a point, anything could happen in the first two months that could cause the whole thing to be a false alarm, so it would be best to keep it quiet until everything was certain.  
Lately he's been noticing more brooding and less mood swings,   
"What's going on?" He finally asks you one morning. You haven't touched your breakfast, but you just blame it on morning sickness. Though at this point you're not even sure if that's true.  
You shrug in answer.   
He regards you for a moment, suddenly jumping up and grabbing your hand.  
"Come on." He pulls you into your bedroom, ignoring your protests and nudges you toward your dresser, "Get changed, we're going out."  
"Out where?"  
"Just out. You need fresh air. Maybe we'll go to the park, maybe a bookstore, maybe we'll stop for lunch, or a movie, but we're going out."  
"Seb I don't want to go out. I'm tired."   
"You're tired because you need to get out."  
"That doesn't even make sense."  
"Yes it does. Now get changed."  
After some more grumbling about not wanting to leave, he picks out some clothes and practically starts undressing you before you stop him.  
"What? It's not like I haven't done it before." He jokes, waggling his eyebrows at you.  
You press your lips into a line.  
Don't smile. Don't smile. Don't smile.  
You turn your back to him to hide the smirk you can't suppress and you start to change.   
When you turn back around, you're impressed to see he has his back to you, giving you some privacy.  
You clear your throat behind him, getting his attention,  
"So where are we going first?"  
.  
.  
.  
You could honestly kick yourself for waiting so long to do this. In light of everything that's happened recently, then with how busy work had been before that, the last time you even had time to go out and just photograph everything you saw had to have been months ago. You hadn't realized how much you missed it.  
Just before leaving the apartment, Sebastian produced your camera case from behind his back saying he found it in your closet when he was putting blankets away a few days earlier,  
"Couldn't just leave her there, she was screaming for exercise."  
"She?" You chuckle, he shrugs,   
"She, he, it, they... Whatever, we're going on a shooting spree." He says with a wink. Three hours later, you're both resting under a tree in the middle of Central Park, comparing pictures, you on your camera, him on his phone,  
"Why did you take so many of me?" Sebastian asks, looking over your shoulder,  
"I didn't mean to," you laugh, "you photobombed be at every turn." He presses his lips together to suppress a smile, but you hear his near-silent snickering,  
"Oh wow, that's a great one." He whispers to himself as he scrolls through his own pictures. You try to look at it over his shoulder, but he keeps angling the screen away from you,  
"Come on! I showed you mine!" You whine,  
"You won't like it."  
"You won't know that until I see it."  
"With this one, I know."   
You finally wrestle the phone to a better angle and see a picture of yourself. You're backlit, with trees and the skyline behind you. Even through the shadows cast by the lighting you can see the small smile on your face as you're squinting one eye shut, focusing your camera on something out of frame, likely across the park. Your hair caught up in a breeze.   
You have to admit it's a good shot,  
"That's actually a cool glare effect. Try for a prettier subject next time, though."  
"Not possible." He says, just softly enough that you know he's completely serious. You look at him sideways,   
"You're never changing my mind about that." He insists with a laugh, going back to scrolling through his shots,  
"At least it's a close up and you can't see anything below my shoulders." You grumble,  
"There's definitely nothing wrong with the rest of you, I can tell you that much."  
You roll your eyes and shake your head, but Sebastian looks at you for a moment, apparently considering something,   
"You're going to hate this question... But what happened that you can only see negatives when you look at yourself?" You sigh, not wanting to touch on that particular subject. The thought of talking through any issues right now just makes you want to go back to bed and never get up,  
"You're right, I hate that question... And it doesn't matter." You reply shortly,  
"It really does. You're gorgeous and you can't see it. I want to know why."   
You try to ignore him, not wanting to get into something so touchy, especially while your emotions are so out of control.   
"Maybe I don't want to talk about it. It's such a gorgeous day, and we were having so much fun, why ruin it?"  
You turn back to your camera, trying to think of anything else, though you aren't actually seeing your pictures anymore. You're remembering the unflattering, offhand comments you'd get about new haircuts, the sometimes less-than-subtle remarks about how a certain dress or pair of jeans fit, the suggestions of going on a diet or just cutting back on how much you were eating. Sometimes the remarks came from so-called friends, sometimes from boyfriends. Any time they got you down and you went to your mother, she would try to encourage you, telling you the opinions didn't matter, how you felt should be your guideline, not what other people saw.  
It never quite worked for you. So you gave up, resigning yourself to being overweight, or out of shape - whatever anyone wanted to call it. It always translated to "ugly, unwanted, and disposable" in your mind.  
"Hey, come on, come back." Sebastian interrupts your thoughts and pulls you sideways into him, almost into his lap, as he kisses the top of your head.   
"I get it if that's something you don't wanna talk about... I just don't know how you can't see what I see."  
"Like what?" You groan,   
"Your eyes. Your smile. Your hair."  
"You mean the dingy-colored, crooked, and frizzy beyond control parts of me?"  
"I mean how bright your eyes are when you're setting up a shot, or how they shine when you're joking around. Your contagious smile that always reaches your eyes... Not to mention hair that always - even first thing in the morning when it's sticking up every which way - looks so soft it makes me wanna bury my face in it."   
You don't hear anything forced in his tone as he lists these ridiculous things that you see as some of your glaring flaws, instead seeing them as the greatest parts of you, describing them with an excitement that is almost bubbling over. You have to gulp at his sincerity.   
"You can't see any of those details in a backlit picture."  
"I can. It's a picture of you. Those are all parts of you. And you... Are beautiful." He almost sighs the last bit,  
"You're biased."  
"Nope... Maybe a little. But it is true." He turns on his phone's front camera, and his screen is suddenly taken up by the two of you, him holding you close, resting his cheek on the top of your head. He snaps the picture before you can stop him, then looks victorious that you didn't manage to block the shot.  
"Come on, man, delete it." You groan,  
"No! It's a great picture. And it's my phone."  
"It's my face."  
"I won't post it anywhere, how about that?"  
"How about you delete it?"   
"How about no?" He shows you the picture, "Y/N this is a good picture of you."  
"No such thing." He makes you look at it anyway, and despite your reflexive cringe, looking at the picture, you're struck by how relaxed you look. Maybe your hair isn't quite as frizzy as you thought; your eyes aren't shining, but maybe you could admit that they aren't exactly "dingy".  
It wasn't necessarily as bad as you may have thought, though you would never admit it.  
"I'm telling you, this one's a keeper." He said, quickly setting the phone as his lock screen before going back to his pictures and scrolling some more. You look at him thoughtfully, before humming out a sigh,  
'A keeper, huh?' You think, watching him scrutinize his photos, 'Maybe this one is.'


	15. Chapter 15

A few days after your outing with Sebastian, you finally had a doctor's appointment. Your pregnancy would be official. Up until now, everything has felt so surreal that you weren't sure what you would feel when you had proof.   
"Why are you so nervous?" Sebastian laughs, as he wanders the room, looking at various baby pictures, cringing at disturbing childbirth diagrams, and laughably avoiding a few visual aids you were desperately hoping your doctor wouldn't be using today,   
"I don't know!" You huff, "I just can't sit still." The longer you waited for your doctor, the more you were tapping your toes, drumming your fingers, and ultimately making a surprisingly loud racket in the generally quiet room.  
"It's not like it'll be surprise news or anything, and our little photo shoot was supposed to help you relax."   
He moves to stand behind you where you sit on the exam table and begins rubbing your shoulders.  
"It's not exactly an easy situation."  
He stops massaging, wrapping his arms across your chest and pulling you back against him. He rests his chin on your head with a sigh,  
"No, it's not easy. But it doesn't have to be this stressful."  
You let the silence grow between you, hesitating with what you know you have to bring up next,  
"I feel like we should talk this through. Just make sure we're on the same page."  
"Sure... But I don't know what exactly there is to talk about. I'm here for whatever you need, however exclusively you need it."  
"How can you know you'll still feel like that in five years? Or ten? Or even two? I mean, we aren't together, and I think us pushing ourselves into a relationship because we're having a baby is a recipe for an unhappy marriage. So what happens when you're ready to settle down with someone? Or when the two of you start a real family?"  
"A real family?" His voice is tinged with hurt,  
"I mean-- I just-- you know what I mean." You stutter.   
He sighs heavily, working his way slowly around the exam table, thinking carefully about something as he stands in front of you. Hesitating a few times before beginning, he finally lets himself speak,  
"For twelve years, I didn't have a father." He begins, reluctantly, "Most of my formative years, I didn't know what it was like to have a man there to talk to, play catch with, to teach me... Whatever dads normally teach their sons. My mom was amazing, don't get me wrong, and I don't think she could have done a better job of raising me... But it hurt not having a father. When she met my step dad, and I caught a glimpse of what I was missing, I swore I would never do that. My kids would always have their dad. And I would make sure I was a good one for them." His voice wavers slightly, emotion weighing it down,  
You fight back the tears, taking a few deep breaths, hoping to suppress the lump in your throat. You hadn't discussed your families in depth like this before. While you knew that his dad split before he was born, you didn't realize how affected he was by it.  
"Well..." You clear your throat, trying to regain your voice, "as long as we're on the same page."  
For once, you're the one who pulls him to you, seeing the pain he exposed, you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tight across his middle, your cheek resting just below his heart. You feel him hug you back, curling down over you, sighing again, sharply this time, trying to expel the hurt caused by a man he couldn't even call father.  
"I'm always going to be there. For both of you." He whispers.  
You stay like that for several minutes, leaning into each other, until you're interrupted by your doctor walking in. Sebastian straightens up and steps aside slightly, though he keeps his hand on your lower back,  
"Good afternoon, Y/N, how are you feeling today?"  
"Fine." You shrug,  
"And I don't think we've been introduced..." She extends a hand to Sebastian,  
"Doctor Yoon, this is my--, this is-- uh..." You flounder, not knowing how to introduce him, your friend? Your almost boyfriend?   
"Sebastian." He jumps in, shaking her hand easily, "I'm the father. It's nice to meet you."   
Ah, you suppose you could introduce him as that...  
"Nice to meet you as well." She replies, taking a seat, "So as I understand it, you are estimating about ten weeks along." She begins,   
"Well, I can tell you the day it happened, so it's not exactly an estimate." You reply with a chuckle,  
"And you're sure of the date?"   
You nod,  
"Just trying to be thorough." She assures with a pleasant smile, she snaps on a pair of rubber gloves, instructing you to lie back,  
"If you'd like more privacy for this..." She says gently, speaking to you but nodding her head toward Sebastian, "it's not uncommon, we have a waiting area right outside the door."  
You consider it for a moment, but then the thought of asking him to leave clenches your heart and your nerves bubble up again.  
"No, it's fine." She gives a nod and a small smile, then proceeds.  
After your routine physical telling you what you already knew. You were out of shape, but nothing to cause health concerns, blood pressure was normal, no surprise illnesses, and of course you were around two months pregnant, she then began the medical history interrogation.  
Okay, it wasn't actually and interrogation, but it almost felt that way at times.  
She was very thorough, building a comprehensive background for you and Sebastian, determining there was nothing abnormal to worry about during this pregnancy.  
"So, one last thing and you'll be free to go." Dr. Yoon says, having you sit back in the exam table and pulling a monitor closer, "I just want to do a quick ultrasound and that'll be all for today."  
She switches on the contraption, spreading a gel over a small paddle. You lay back again, the cold gel making you shiver as it slides across your lower belly.  
You're trying to slow your breathing. Just stay calm. You really do try not to twitch in surprise when Sebastian slips his hand into yours.   
Then you hear it.  
An odd thump. Muffled. Rhythmic.   
A heartbeat.  
"There we are." She says, turning the monitor toward you and Sebastian. She maneuvers the ultrasound wand a little bit more, "You see this here?" She points to a small dark spot on the screen. You both nod,  
"Say hello to your baby."   
Your baby.  
You are going to have a baby.  
With Sebastian.  
You hear him take a deep breath beside you, covering a sniffle, as he plants a kiss on your temple, never taking his eyes off the screen. You still can't believe it. All the emotions, worries, and anxieties that you'd been feeling that you thought were rooted in fear, come crashing over you as a fierce protectiveness.  
You can do this.   
You will do this.  
You do want this.  
You're having a baby.  
With your best friend.


	16. Chapter 16

"So can we get this party started, or what?" Mackie calls as he bursts through the front door,  
"We've been waiting on you." Chris dead pans.  
"A text or something would have been nice." Sebastian mutters,  
"Aw come on, I'm not that late."  
"Two hours, man." Amy pipes up from her perch on George's lap in the corner. You and Sebastian had set up a movie night, partly to make up for the one you ran out on a few weeks ago, partly because you thought it would be a good way to tell everyone at once about the baby. For the past two hours everyone has been eating and drinking in the kitchen awaiting the ever-late Anthony Mackie,  
"Well now that I'm here, the fun can begin!" He scoops you up into a hug, "Long time no see, girl. You feeling better?"  
"I am. And about that... I actually wanted-- we... Wanted to talk to you all... About something..."  
Your hesitant stuttering gets everyone's attention, but then you're not sure how to begin.  
"At least tell us if it's good or bad news." Amy says after several moments of silence,  
"Oh, it's good." Sebastian jumps in, stepping closer to you, "In case any of you don't know: a couple of months ago, George introduced Y/N and me at an after party. That night..." He pauses, trying to think of the most sensitive phrasing, "We kinda..."  
"We ended up--" You try to help him but are cut off by a gasp from Amy.  
"When I told you you would hit it off, I didn't quite mean like that." George jokes, receiving an elbow to the ribs from Amy.  
"Why are you telling us this though?" she asks, but then you see a recognition dawn in her eyes, "Unless..."  
You nod and she tries to suppress a squeal,  
"Unless what?" George asks, you look at Sebastian and he gestures for you to go ahead,  
"I'm pregnant."   
Amy is practically bouncing, doing a terrible job of containing herself, but waiting for the news to sink in for everyone else. Mackie is the first to speak,  
"That's... Wow, that's big! I mean, it's great! ...it's great, right?"   
"Yes." You say, glancing at Sebastian, "It's great." The small group gathers around, trading hugs and pats on the back with congratulations.  
"So you two are finally together?" Chris cuts in with a growing smile,   
"No," Sebastian answers haltingly, "we're not together. We're having this baby together but... No..."  
"So you're staying... What, just friends?" Chris asks, brows furrowed in something between confusion and concern,  
"We didn't feel like it would be the smartest move to get married just because of this." You want to speak up, almost feeling bad about letting Sebastian do all the talking, even as he parrots back your own words. But you found yourself speechless, looking at the confused, though pleasantly surprised faces of your closest friends.  
You can tell Chris wants to say something, but he swallows whatever it is, forcing himself past his reservations,  
"Well congratulations, man!" He finally pulls Sebastian into a rib crushing hug,  
"Hey, you're officially the last one without kids, Evans, you better get a move on." Mackie teases,  
"Whoa now, I'm just... Biding my time. Besides, this one isn't here yet."   
"Oh, right! When are you due?" Amy asks,  
"March 15th. Oh, you want to see?" You pull the sonogram picture from your pocket and everyone gathers around,  
"Aw, look Y/N, they have your... Aversion to picture taking." George says. You can't help the belly laugh that barks out of you, "Seriously, though, this is like abstract art. 'Look in this corner and you'll see what I felt during my troubled childhood, in this splotch I poured all of my anxiety from my first kiss--'."  
"In this little black spot here, you will see my baby." You cut him off, affecting the same moody-artist tone and pointing to what you hope is the right spot on the picture.   
The room goes quiet as they all take a moment with you and Sebastian, looking at the sonogram. You feel Sebastian's arm sneak around your middle, his hand resting on your lower stomach. You lean into him unconsciously.  
"What did your parents say when you told them?" Chris asks quietly,  
"Mine were actually really supportive. I've always been able to count on them when I need them." You wait for Sebastian's answer, finding yourself just as curious as Chris,  
"My mom was surprised, it was a little out of the blue, the last she heard from me was the day after Margarita and I--" he cuts himself off quickly, feeling the mention of his ex to be too out of place, "When the shock passed, I could almost see how excited she was about having a grandchild." He chuckled. "She was talking a mile a minute. My dad couldn't even get out a congratulations. The last time I heard her that wound up was when I told her I got into Rutgers."  
"When did you tell her? And why haven't I asked before now?" You chuckle uncomfortably at your oversight,   
"I called her when you were on the phone with your parents."  
"You didn't seem too happy when I saw you after that, though."  
"Oh, that was nothing." You look at him doubtfully, knowing there's plenty more to that story, but you can tell from his lack of eye contact that it's not something he wants to get into with the rest of your friends in the room.  
"Okay, baby's first movie night. Let's go." Mackie chimes in when the silence stretches too long.   
Everyone makes their way to the living room, food and drinks in hand, and gets settled, but Sebastian gets pulled aside by Chris when everyone else has left the kitchen. You can't hear what they're talking about, but they both sound a little frustrated. Just as you're wondering if you should interrupt, they both join the group wearing fake smiles to cover looks of disappointment, but if anyone else notices, they don't mention it.   
"I hope you know I expect the full story soon." Amy whispers to you,   
"Oh, I think a girl's day is long overdue." You whisper back, both of you being shushed as the opening sequence begins.  
.  
.  
.  
Sebastian POV

We were on our way into the living room when Chris pulled me aside,  
"Wanna tell me what's going on here?" He hisses, as discreetly as he can,  
"What do you mean?"  
"This crap about just staying friends. Why aren't you stepping up?"  
Okay, that hurts.  
"I wanted to... I still do. But she made it clear early on that she doesn't want to be with me."  
"Early on? As in before all of this?"  
"I guess..."   
"Maybe she's changed her mind."  
I just shake my head at him. I know I don't have an argument without getting into specifics, and I don't think she'd want that.  
"But you could at least ask--"  
"I'm not pushing her. I've already told her I'm staying with her through this whole thing, and I am. She seems... At least somewhat happy with that."  
Chris stands there, shaking his head at me,   
"You two belong together. We all see it. If you can't, you're crazy."  
"I do see that. But I also think she may be right. A surprise pregnancy isn't the best reason to get married. If I tried to propose now, she would never trust that it has nothing to do with the baby."  
He tries to speak up again, but I cut him off,   
"I'm not going anywhere. And the time just isn't right." With that I head for the living room. By the time I get to the door, I can't hear him following me.  
I take a seat beside Y/N, throwing my arm across the back of the couch behind her without a second thought, and the movie night commences.  
Yes, Chris has a point. It kinda makes me look like a chump that I didn't even try to propose, or at least forge a more permanent, more intimate relationship with her after the news. But he also doesn't understand how delicate the situation is.  
She has to trust me.  
Has to believe me.  
She has to know it's real.


	17. Chapter 17

"Hey, I have a question." Sebastian asks out of the blue one afternoon.  
In the two weeks following the movie night, you and Sebastian settle into a comfortable routine. He convinced you to stay with him for a while, so on mornings when you wake up sick, he's there to help; every Sunday and Wednesday the two of you go back out to the park for another photo session; he would flip through scripts his agent sent him almost every day, asking your opinion when he found one he liked.  
"What's up?" You answer absently.   
You were currently working on a crossword, your legs flung over Sebastian's lap as he worked his way through the latest stack of screenplays,  
"What do you think about turning my office into a nursery?"  
You pause at this. You had never touched on the subject of where you would go when the baby was born, you just figured you would be moving back to your own place. He jumps in again when you start to flounder for an answer,  
"If nothing else, I'm turning it into a guest room. I never use the office anyway."   
"Um..."  
"Come with me, let me show you."  
He pulls you carefully up off the couch, as your baby bump was beginning to show.  
Pulling you into the office, he excitedly tells you his plan,  
"I've already found people who want the desk, the computer - I always use my laptop anyway, and the love seat. I like the idea of leaving the bookshelf and just painting it to match the rest of the room." As he talks, you see a warm, relaxing room take shape, "The crib would go here, you can see out the window, but the sunshine doesn't hit this wall directly. I thought a rocking chair would go right here, so we wouldn't have to walk far after rocking the baby to sleep, a changing table should be about the size of the desk, right? So I figured it would work right there... What's wrong?" He stops and looks at you worriedly,  
"Nothing..." You say through your tears with a small smile, you can see the nursery with its pale walls and soft colors, you can see changing the baby in the area where the desk still sits. You can see it, and it's perfect.  
"I know we haven't talked about this, but I think we should get it out of the way now." He says, leading you to the love seat, "I know your lease is up next month. And instead of renewing it, I really want you to move in here with me." You know he sees you tense as he presses on quickly.  
"I don't like the idea of you living all the way across town, and when the baby comes, I want to be able to help you. There isn't a whole lot of extra room at your place, but there's an entire room here that I'm not using."   
You try to argue, try to think of a logical reason not to move in with the father of your child,  
"It's fast..." You whisper, half heartedly, and you immediately see his face fall. The brightness and excitement in his eyes dims and he tries to cover the slouch of his shoulders.  
"I get that... Yeah, it's okay, I just figured I'd throw that out there." He looks around the room with a quiet sigh, like he's watching his plans melt away. He absently glances at his watch, "I'm gonna go get dinner started." You realize how ridiculous you're being and as he starts to stand, you stop him, pushing him back down in his seat.  
Any seemingly logical reason you can think of sounds so illogical now.  
"Sebastian, just sit for a second. This whole thing has been fast. Every new step is just a little overwhelming is all."  
"I get it." He says, refusing to meet your eyes,  
"No you don't." You whisper, grasping his chin to make him look at you, "I love the nursery."   
He blinks, his eyebrows raising in surprise,  
"So..." He stops himself.  
Yes.   
You will.   
"I want to move in with you."   
His eyes widen and he can't suppress his smile. He pulls you to him wrapping you in a warm hug, planting a kiss on your shoulder. You realize something,  
"I have a question for you, now." He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, "Do we want to know if we're having a boy or a girl?"  
"Oh... I don't know, I think I--"  
Sebastian is cut off when his phone rings. Pulling it out of his pocket you see that his mom is calling.  
"Oh, I actually have to take this."   
"Go ahead, I'll cook tonight." He smiles one more time as he gets up to leave the room,  
"Hey, Ma." You hear him say as he walks down the hall. You catch bits of the conversation, scolding yourself for eavesdropping. As you slowly make your way to the kitchen, you hear as he asks how his stepdad is doing, mentions a couple of things that happened in the last week; soon the bits you pick up don't sound English, but you're interrupted anyway, when your own phone rings.  
You groan at the caller ID and almost think twice about answering.  
"What's up, Marcus?" You greet, your tone flat.  
"Hey, I know I probably have no right to call you after what happened--"  
"You're right, you don't."  
"But I kind of have a crisis on my hands... I have a huge project coming up and I really need your help."   
"Get your new assistant to help you."  
"I don't have one."  
"You didn't hire anyone after I left?"  
"That was a little out of the blue, I haven't had a whole lot of time for interviews."  
"So you've been doing everything yourself?"  
"I didn't really have much of a choice. No one is as good as you. You've spoiled me for any other photographers." He chuckles nervously, trying to lighten the tension.  
"You're going to have to make do."  
"I know I was wrong, I shouldn't have said what I did. You have the best eye I've ever seen, and I really need that here. Is there anything I can do that would convince you to come back?"  
You sigh and punch the bridge of your nose, feeling him back you into a corner. You remember the graduation shoots, engagement sessions, portraits, how you never wanted to get stuck with that again,  
"Listen to me, Marcus: We shouldn't be working together if you still have feelings for me."  
"I can set them aside, Y/N--"  
"You said that last time, and here we are."  
He's quiet for a while, but then you hear him sigh,  
"I don't think I'll ever stop-- I won't be able to change my feelings for you, but I can be professional."  
You think of the clincher, the one thing that would likely get him running for the hills.   
"Marcus I can't come back to work for you."  
"Just give it a day or two--"  
"I'm having a baby."  
He goes silent for so long you wonder if he hung up on you or the connection was dropped,  
"You're pregnant?"  
"That's what I just said."  
"He got you pregnant?" He voice raises and you hear his frustration mounting.  
"Marcus--"  
"Did he try to make you... Did he tell you to get rid of it?"  
"He hasn't done anything wrong."   
"Then where is he now?"  
"Honestly, that's none of your business."   
"Y/N... We used to be friends." He says softly, "What happened to us?"  
"You know you always wanted more than that. But that's something I can't give you."  
"I just don't want to see you make the same mistakes as last time."  
"This isn't last time, Marcus. He's not going anywhere. And neither am I."  
"How do you know that?"  
You can feel your annoyance bubbling over, but you don't feel like fighting. The day had gone so well, you were comfortable. You were happy,  
"I'm moving in with him." You cut him off when you hear him try to argue, "You have no say in this. You aren't my keeper. The sooner you realize that, the better. Good luck finding a new assistant." You try to be sincere but you hang up before the conversation can go on.  
"Hey," you spin around to see Sebastian walk into the kitchen, "I have... News..."  
"Good or bad?" You ask warily,  
"Well, I think it's good. I hope you do..."  
"Okay..."   
"My mom wants to meet you."   
"...Oh." Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip,  
"Yeah, she's heard all about you, and she thinks it's time to get to know you herself. That and we haven't had lunch in a while, so we're getting together Sunday afternoon... Is that okay with you?" He steps forward, watching you closely.  
"Your mom?"   
"If it helps at all, she's really excited to meet you."  
He wraps around you again as you wrestle with the idea of meeting her,  
"What if--"  
"She's gonna love you."  
"But how do you know that? Sometimes you just don't like someone. There's no good reason for it, you just don't like them."  
He looks you straight in the eyes,  
"If she's anything like me, she's gonna love you."   
He lets his statement sink in for just a second before planting a quick kiss on your forehead and stepping around you to finally get started on dinner.  
"Wait--"   
"Could you grab that bread for me?" He interrupts you,  
"Did you just--"   
"You wanna make the salad and I'll get started on the soup?"   
He sets a pot in the sink, beginning to fill it with water. You stop him, turning him to look at you for the second time that night, and you see the nervousness behind his eyes.  
There's nothing to say.  
You curl your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him down to you.  
The kiss is soft, surprising for both of you, and when you break away, you stay close, crowding into each other's space. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, or straying up into his hair.  
He leans in one more time, but you only allow him a quick peck before pulling back again,  
"I think that's too much water." You whisper. He glances at the overflowing pot in the sink.  
"Don't know what came over me." He jokes quietly, nuzzling your cheek.  
"So, Sunday." You say, stepping away to get a salad put together,  
"Sunday." He responds, "Lunch at Hot and Crusty in the upper west side."  
"Pizza. So elegant." You tease. For the rest of the night, neither of you mention what he said. Neither of you mention the kiss. You don't let yourself get nervous about how comfortable this is, you just let yourself enjoy it.


	18. Chapter 18

Leaning back against the head of your and Sebastian's bed, you try to keep the noise to a minimum, avoiding the clink of fork against bowl as you somehow thoroughly enjoy your breakfast of cold spaghetti with a hefty helping of mustard.  
Your fork squeaks against the ceramic and you freeze. Sebastian stirs, but quickly resettles in his position wrapped around your middle, fast asleep against your stomach. Lately you'd noticed he found any excuse to touch your growing baby bump, from a casual brush as he steps around you in the kitchen, to moments like this morning, his head resting soundly against you. Sometimes he would try to convince you he could hear the baby's heartbeat. And sometimes you almost believe him.  
All it took was one second, you looked away from your fork for just a moment, glancing down at Sebastian, when a glob of cold spaghetti slips away, falling straight onto the side of his face. He wakes with a startled jerk and a groan, swiping at the slimy mass on his cheek.  
"What is this?" He whines sleepily, sitting up,  
"I was... Hungry?" You say trying not to laugh. He inspects the gooey mass until his sleepy mind finally recognizes it and he wrinkles his nose in disgust,  
"How? Just... How?"  
"I don't know what to tell you, this is the only thing that sounds good."  
"But... Why?"  
"Do we really have to go over this again?" You chuckle. There had been jokes at the beginning about having weird cravings, but they hadn't set in until the last week or so, "All I want is spaghetti, but the sauce doesn't taste right. Something about the mustard helps."  
He cringes again, shaking his head at you.   
"But for breakfast?"  
You shrug in answer, slurping up the last noodle.  
"The baby wants it." You joke, "Maybe it's a crazy Romanian craving. Your genes are in there too, ya know." He continues shaking his head at you,  
"Just keep in mind, we have a lunch date today. Mom's expecting us at 11."   
"Yeah, we should probably start getting ready." You say, glancing at the clock. His non-mustard-covered hand strays over to rest on your stomach and suddenly you want to stay right where you are. Nearing your second trimester, you'd begun to show a bit more prominently. On one hand, having nothing in your closet that fit was doing a number on your self image, but on the other, the pride in Sebastian's eyes when you would catch him staring at you made you feel... Strong. Almost beautiful.  
Though the thought of your waning clothing options reminds you,   
"By the way, I promised Amy I would meet her for an early dinner, we're meeting up around 5 and then going tent shopping."  
"Tent shopping?" He asks, and you laugh at the utterly confused look on his face,  
"Maternity clothes. I already feel huge, I can't imagine what it's going to be like over the next several months." You groan at the thought, letting your head knock back against the headboard,  
"You aren't huge." Sebastian reassures gently, "Honestly, you're hardly showing. Shopping sounds good, though. You haven't gone out in a while."  
"We were just at the park on Wednesday."  
"Yeah, but you need a girls day." He winks, "I dare you to try to put my savings in jeopardy."   
"What? You're not paying."  
"Why not?"  
"I need to know I can still pay my own way. You've done so much already, I'm starting to feel like a mooch."  
"You didn't ask for any of it, though, and you don't expect it from me. Besides, I gotta say... I kinda like buying you stuff." He smirks, scratching his head, looking bashful. You smile sweetly at him,  
"You're not paying."  
Sebastian rolls his eyes but doesn't argue further, and his smile never fades.   
"Come on," you say, finally swinging your legs over the side of the bed, "I'm gonna get dressed and you need to shower, you smell like mustard."  
"I wonder why."  
.  
.  
.  
"Sebastian!"   
You spot an older woman waving to him from up the street, right outside the deli,   
"Hey, Ma."  
"What kind of hello is that for your mama? You haven't called me in how long and now I finally get you to come out and have lunch. Come here."  
She pulls Sebastian into a hug and kisses him on both cheeks, you wait awkwardly as he reciprocates the greeting,  
"Y/N, this is my mom, Elisabeta."   
"Elise." She corrects as she turns to you. You grow tense under her full attention, wondering what she's thinking of you, but you don't get to worry for long. You reach for a handshake, but she hugs and kisses you the same as her own son, then pulls you into a second hug,   
"Congratulations, fiica dolce." You send Sebastian a surprised look as you hesitantly return his mother's hug. He just shrugs and smiles.   
"Let's go eat. I'm starving." He cuts in, leading your small group into the pizza shop.  
Sebastian has you and his mother save a table while he goes to order, leaving you alone... With this woman you don't know... Who happens to be his mother... The grandmother of your baby.   
And you'd always been horrible at small talk.  
You choose a table easily enough, picking a booth along the wall and settling in,  
"So, then. Tell me all about you. Where are you from? What do you do?" She prompts.  
You flounder for a moment, trying to order your thoughts,  
"You're scaring her, Ma." Sebastian jokes, sliding into the spot beside you.   
"She's not scaring me..."  
"See? I'm not scaring her, I just want to get to know her."   
"Try starting with easier questions."   
He leans back, sitting as he usually does, with his arm across the back of your seat.  
"How about 'how did you two meet'?"  
You let Sebastian take over, not sure how much he really wants to divulge about your first night,  
"Through friends." He says carefully. She waits for more, almost rolling her eyes when he doesn't go on,  
"Okay, how long have you been together?"  
"...Easier."  
"Sebastian, raspunde-mi." You blink a few times before you realize why you didn't understand her,  
"De ce conteaza?" He lowers his voice, trying to even his tone,  
"Pentru ca my vrei sa spune-m." She leans toward him over the table, covering his hand with hers, "întotdeauna mi spui totul."  
Yeah. You need to learn Romanian.  
He sighs, gathering courage and surrendering. You don't know what was said, but you know the pleading look she is giving him.  
"We met... Two months ago now?"  
"Just over three. A friend of mine, George, worked with Seb on a project last year. George invited me to the after party and introduced us."  
"You've known each other for three months..." She says, you can see her making the connections and you brace yourself for the lecture. The judgement. But you watch as her expression softens, looking meaningfully from you to her son as he fidgets in his seat.   
"How are you?" She asks sincerely after a breath, "I think I was somewhere around three months and I still couldn't keep anything down."  
"Oh..." You glance at Sebastian, surprised at how she glossed over the brevity of your relationship, "I think I've passed that stage--"  
"We're into the cravings now." He adds with a small shudder. Elisabeta giggles,  
"I craved lox on toast and pralines for my entire pregnancy. What's your go-to right now?"  
Right on cue, your pizza is delivered to the table,  
"Oh, by the way..." Seb begins, digging into his jacket pocket. He produces a handful of mustard packets that he snagged from the condiment bar, "enjoy."  
"Mustard?" She asks amusedly,   
"On spaghetti, usually. No idea."   
For the rest of the afternoon, you listen to stories about Sebastian as a little boy, or Elise's experiences during her own pregnancy, and you tell her a bit about yourself from growing up in Chicago to getting your photography degree at New York Film Academy. The more you talk, the more comfortable you get, but you still freeze when Sebastian drops the bomb that you and he are moving in together, but just like everything else, she takes it in stride, assuring you both that she would be around to help,  
"My office is going to make a great nursery." Sebastian insists, launching into the description he laid out for you, his animated excitement proving contagious.   
"Do you know yet if you are having a boy or girl? Or if you want to know?"  
You share a look with Sebastian,  
"We haven't quite decided..." You say finally.  
After a bit more chatting, you excuse yourself, knowing you had to get going to meet up with Amy. Parting ways at the front door, you give Lisa a hug. A real hug, with no hesitation.  
"Any time you two need help, or if you need advice for anything, just let me know." She says as she pulls away,  
"We definitely will."  
You both wave as she turns the corner, then head back toward your own apartment.  
You walk few blocks in comfortable silence, texting Amy about this evening, leaning into Sebastian when he rests his arm across your shoulders,   
"So...?" You ask,  
"So what?"  
"How do you think it went?" He send you a sidelong glance,  
"Turns out she's a lot like me." He says with a small smile, you flush lightly, his phrasing reminding you of the kiss you shared a few days before; but something still wasn't sitting right,  
"You're sure she liked me?"  
"Positive. She's already talking about us having lunch every Sunday." He chuckles,  
"Then what was that little argument about?" He furrows his brow in question, "I don't know what happened, I didn't exactly get any subtitles, but she wasn't too happy about something."  
"Oh, that." He scratches the back of his neck absently, "It was nothing, really."  
"It didn't seem like nothing." You weren't used to this sort of behavior from him, the fact that he didn't want to tell you something was beginning to put you on edge.   
"It wasn't--" he stops and rethinks, rewords, starts again, "She didn't like that I wasn't telling her everything. She's used to me giving her all the information, and I'm used to telling the whole story."  
"Why didn't you this time?"  
"I just... I was sure she'd like you. I really was, but as we started talking I chickened out thinking about what it would look like from her side of it..."  
"'From her side'?"  
"You know what I mean. I got scared that she would judge you... Judge us... Even though she's one of the least judgmental people I've ever known. I don't know, it seems stupid now."  
You think for a moment, mulling over his words,  
"Why did it scare you? Why would it matter?"  
He stops with a sigh, turning and looking you in the eyes,   
"I wanted her to like you so much..." He smooths your hair back, then kisses you lightly on the cheek and wraps you in a hug, "I wanted her to love you..."  
You snuggle into his warm chest, relishing the moment,  
"So she's a lot like you, huh?" You tease. He pulls back with a smile and a wink,  
"She's just like me."


	19. Chapter 19

Your feet are screaming, your back is starting to ache, and even though you just ate two hours ago, you are famished. You and Amy had been shopping for a while, finding almost an entire maternity wardrobe for you in one afternoon. You finally gave in and begged Amy to take a snack break with you, not much later you found yourselves munching on pretzels and pizza in the food court.  
"You know what I'm going to ask." She starts, nibbling her pizza crust,  
"Amy, I don't remember anything. I'd tell you if I did."  
"You sure about that?"  
You just stare at her.  
"The whole night is blacked out?"  
"Well... Not 'blacked out' technically..." As soon as you voice the confession, you know you'll regret it because of how Amy's eyes widen,  
"This is what I want." She bounces, leaning toward you over the table, "What do you remember?"  
You avoid her eyes, trying to divert her attention to any of the distractions in the noisy food court. The homeless man asleep at one of the tables, the two coworkers in the Panda Express who have been pulling pranks on each other with growing creativity, and the couple in the corner who is obviously not afraid of PDA. You finally give up, knowing that Amy will get what she's looking for one way or another,  
"Just... Feelings... Motions... That kind of thing."  
"Oooh... Motions, huh? Good ones, I take it?"  
"You're impossible."  
"And you're a little liar, all that 'I blacked it out. I don't remember!' Stuff."  
"I really didn't. The more time that's gone by, the more scraps have come back to me, but I wasn't lying... Okay maybe a little bit. Because I really don't want to talk about it."  
"Come on, now! You had to know this was coming. If you don't want to give me real details just... Make something up. Let me live vicariously."  
"Really?" You laugh, "What does George think about you talking like this?"  
"Aw, he doesn't mind, I don't mean anything by it. Sebastian is incredibly handsome, an absolute sweetheart as far as I've seen, and a hugely talented actor."  
"And George?"  
"Is the absolute love of my life." She answers, leaning her chin on her hand, her eyes shining, looking every bit the hopeless romantic.  
"Fair enough," you chuckle, "What do you want me to make up?" She immediately perks up,  
"I dunno... Was he gentle? Was he rough? Was he the one in control?"  
"Aw geez..." You cover your reddened face,  
"You knew I would go there."  
"And you know I've never liked talking like this."  
"Aw, it was that bad, huh?"  
"No! Not bad, just... I don't know, just not bad."   
Amy snorts at your pathetic dodge,  
"Well, in my head..." She begins, "He took charge, was kinda rough, not afraid to bite--"  
"He wasn't..." You surprise both of you when you cut her off, "Rough, I mean. He was... Sweet."   
"... And?" She prompts, her eyebrows raising slowly,  
"I don't know... I remember dancing at the party... Then someone dancing with me. Then we weren't exactly dancing, and there's not really anything in between. Don't even know how we got to his place."  
"And the not-exactly-dancing after you got to his place?"  
She catches how your blush deepens and she gasps slightly, "You do remember something."   
"Barely." You concede quietly,  
"But you still remember. You said he was sweet. How so?"   
You wish for a moment you could backpedal, never being one who was comfortable with this type of girl-talk, but you give in quickly,  
"I remember... feeling him hold me. Combing his fingers through my hair.   
He kind of took charge but wasn't pushy... The parts I remember were gentle. Not slow or sappy or anything just..."  
"Amazing?"  
You blush again, picking at the last few pieces of your pretzel, mentally kicking yourself for feeling like such a school girl.   
"Wow." She breathes, her tone making you look up, she's looking at you like something just occurred to her, "When did you fall for him?"  
You splutter, nearly choking on your food,  
"What are you talking about?"  
"You're kidding, right? George wanted to set you two up for a reason. Yeah, his timing may have been a little off, but I think you're finally starting to see that you two are perfect together."  
You fidget slightly, playing with your straw,  
"Something happened that you're not telling me..." She says as she watches you, "Did you sleep together again?"  
"Amy, we live together, we share a bed every night." She sends you an unamused look,  
"I can be lewd if you want--"  
"No! No, we haven't, it was only the one time. And no, please don't."  
"Then what was it?"  
"Well... The other night, we were talking about nursery plans and meeting up with his mom for lunch today..."  
"...you're killing me here, just spit it out."   
"I kissed him."  
"You kissed? You, specifically, kissed him?"  
"Yes."  
She nearly squeals in excitement,  
"And why would you do a thing like that?"  
"Don't look so smug. He had just--"  
"Just what?"  
"I think he told me he loves me."  
You let the story tumble out, all the details, trying to prevent Amy having too much of a fit,  
"So you're together now?"  
You grimace in answer to the question everyone keeps asking of you and Seb,  
"What is wrong with you two?"  
"Amy, give me a break, I know he thinks he loves me now, but what happens when baby fever wears off? Every time I let my mind go there, think maybe we could be together, maybe there can be a happy ending this time, I see him leaving. I can't go through that again."  
"So this whole puppy-love thing, always talking about you, always texting, wanting you around, that all happened after you found out you're pregnant? You didn't go on a date before that? You didn't get close as friends beforehand?" The sarcasm may be warranted, but your mood is slowly souring. The memories of all your nasty break ups and rebound mistakes weigh on your shoulders, tarnishing your view of your relationship. "He's different, girl. You know it. He feels different."  
"But what if--"  
"No."  
"But he might--"  
"No." She insists, "You're not allowed to overthink this. What if you get that happy ending? He might love you more in forty years than you could imagine now. And if you decide it's not worth the risk, you will regret it. Because he isn't like the last ones. He isn't abusive, he isn't manipulative, and he isn't going anywhere."   
"Easy for you to say." You chuckle, uncomfortably, ready to change the subject, "You have George."   
"You're right." She says oddly, almost too chipper, "I do have George." She drags her necklace chain out from under her shirt, winding it over her chin, an action you'd seen from her hundreds of times in the past so you think nothing of it, until the charm sparkles brightly, catching the sun from the skylights above you,  
"No." You gasp in surprise. She nods, unable to suppress her smile any longer. You jump up, pulling her to her feet to hug her, "I want to see!"  
She unhooks the chain, slipping the engagement ring back onto her finger,  
"Didn't want to tip you off until I was ready to tell you."  
You fawn over the stunning ring, impressed by George's pick. The look on Amy's face, the way she began talking about her and George's plans for the wedding and beyond made your heart clench slightly. There was one name that ran through your head, one face ever present in your mind at the talk of deciding to keep an apartment in the city or finding a house in the suburbs, what colors to paint the living room, when to settle down, and how many kids may be in your future.  
Despite the flicker of fear weighing the pit of your stomach, the prospect of having even one part of that with Sebastian made your heart fly.  
"We're thinking May or June. George already has a contract for a project this fall and another coming up late winter. I was hoping that, since by then this little one will be here... You would like to be my maid of honor."   
Following some more excited squealing, some of which garnering mildly perturbed looks from bystanders, and accepting your maid of honor title, the two of you continue shopping, though your goals shift slightly as you find yourselves in a few bridal boutiques.   
Amy chatters about her favorite cuts, asking your opinion on lace or satin trims, almost coaxing you into trying on a few gowns yourself. One look in the mirror at how tight your t-shirt has become has you convinced, a wedding dress showcasing your baby bump would not do any favors for your self esteem.  
"As soon as that kid makes an appearance, I expect another girls' day out just like this one." She teases as the two of you finally call it a day, you respond with a smile,  
"Maybe."


	20. Chapter 20

(Sebastian POV)  
"I can't take that, Ma."   
"Of course you can."  
"Ma, please--"  
"I'm not saying you should do it now, or even next week, but you know you want to sometime down the road, this just means you'll be prepared when that time comes."  
"But if she ever found it..."   
"Sebastian, sometimes you have to do things that scare you. It's a fact of life. And I know that if you don't take this now, you'll use the fact that you don't have one as an excuse to procrastinate."  
I take the ring, turning it over in my hand, studying its clarity, its shine, it doesn't weigh hardly anything, but the very real possibility of rejection settles in my gut as I slip my grandmother's engagement ring into my pocket.  
"I like her." Ma says, "You love her." She holds my chin. Makes me look her in the eyes, "And I know she loves you."  
I open my mouth to argue but quickly think better of it. If there's anything I learned growing up, it's that you don't argue with my Ma. While Y/N reacted well to me slipping up and - however vaguely - telling her I love her, I still have a nagging feeling that she was just taking pity on me,  
"I don't want to lose her just because I spoke too soon."  
"You'll know when the time is right." She tells me, wisely. I can't catch myself before I roll my eyes, and almost expect her to flick my ear like when I was little,  
"How am I supposed to know?"  
She shoots me a look I haven't seen in a while. Ma's forms of discipline weren't spanking or yelling, it was always just a look, a tap on the head, nose, or ear to get my full attention, or a quietly muttered demand in Romanian that could even stop my friends in their tracks.  
"You'll know. I raised a smart boy. Smart, strong, brave, even if you forget sometimes."  
I smile as she pulls me down to kiss my forehead,   
"Thanks, Ma."  
.  
.  
.  
(Your POV)

"I can't believe you still haven't seen this." Sebastian says, loading up the DVD menu,  
"I've never been too big on super hero movies, I guess."  
"Never?"  
"I guess I liked a couple of the ones with Superman... Is Superman in this one?"  
"Wha-- this is Captain America. That's DC-- I think you need a comic history lesson before we start this." He laughs,  
"Oh please don't start a lecture." You groan, jokingly , flopping back on the couch.  
He assesses you for a moment, you can see he's deciding whether or not to have mercy.  
"Just don't interrupt with questions."  
"Can't promise anything."  
The movie begins, and you immediately settle into each other,  
"Aw, little baby Chris!" You coo,  
"Sh..."  
"Dang." You breathe a little while later,  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
"No, what?"  
"It's just... You... In that uniform." You fan yourself, and only half jokingly. He definitely looked good in uniform.  
"Wait till you see the second one." He teases.  
"I've seen Civil War, remember? And dear lord, if that look didn't fuel the bad-boy fantasies." You say dreamily,  
"What was it?" He asks, "The hair, the leather? I swear, if you say the arm--"  
"The bike." You confess, getting a far off look that makes him laugh,  
"That's not even part of me."  
"It's part of the image, though. And that image, paired with the puppy dog eyes..."  
"Fair enough" He laughs, turning his attention to the movie,  
"I could get a motorcycle, you know." He says after an overly long pause.  
You really do try to suppress the laugh before it jumps out, but you fail. Miserably. So you can't ignore the scandalized look he throws you,  
"Sorry, I just think..."  
"What? I can take it, spit it out."  
"Well," you giggle again, "I can just see you being one of those guys that lets the bike fall over on them."  
He feigns a gasp,  
"Come on-- it was one time!"  
After laughing and poking in at each other a little while longer, you finally stop bantering, realizing you're missing your movie again.  
You soon get sucked into the story, laughing through skinny Steve going through boot camp, getting attached to Peggy, groaning about how the musical number will be stuck in your head for days to come, and jokingly swooning over WWII Bucky. You even lament when he falls from the train.  
When the movie ends, you have to admit you really enjoyed it, sitting back with a sigh,  
"You know what? Bucky is kinda awesome."   
Sebastian chuckles at you,  
"I told you that you would like it."  
"But seriously, I think he's my favorite of your characters... Oh..." Something occurs to you,  
"What?"  
"James. I like that name..." You'd talked a little bit about names, but hadn't agreed on anything yet,  
"So you think we're having a boy?" You had mutually decided to prolong the torture and wait until the birth to find out the gender,  
"Or Peggy could work too. She's kind of amazing." Sebastian gets a look on his face that tells you he's actually considering it, "Seb, I was kidding."  
"No, not Peggy. Margaret. I kinda like that one."  
You roll the name around in your head,  
"Hm... Margaret Stan... I could get used to that." You notice he's giving you a funny look, "What?"  
"You want her... Or him... To have my last name?"  
"Of course... You're their father."  
His eyes get misty, and the look of utter adoration that he gives you just serves to make you blush, but he suppresses what you're sure would have been very manly tears, and changes the subject slightly,  
"Time for The Winter Soldier." He jumps up and starts the second movie, only to flop back down beside you,  
"Is there a musical number in this one, too?"  
"No!" Seb barks out a laugh, "I think they learned their lesson with the first one."  
You settle back, Sebastian pulling your feet back into his lap and resting his hand on your stomach.  
You feel a small flutter under his hand and it makes you freeze. His head whips around, looking from your stomach to you. He felt it too.  
He turns toward you on the couch as you sit up straighter, the opening dialogue of the movie forgotten, and he flattens both hands against you.  
You both wait, breathless,  
"You did feel that, right?" He whispers. You are about to answer, but are cut off when a small but firm, unmistakable kick hits Sebastian's right palm.   
You yelp in surprise, and you both promptly start to laugh excitedly,  
"Hey, there." Sebastian says, leaning down to talk to your stomach, his voice apparently eliciting a couple more flutters,  
"Definitely a 'Bucky'." You joke,  
"Or just little Peggy getting ready to put some recruits in their place." He teases back.  
.  
.  
(Seb POV)   
It was the most amazing thing I've ever felt. Just a little flutter, almost like her stomach growled, but completely different at the same time. Then the kick.   
I don't think I've ever been more excited about anything. I think up until then it still felt so unreal that I just couldn't wrap my mind around it.  
I'm gonna be a father.  
I watched her, laughed with her at every kick and I remembered what my mom told me. She said, when the time was right, I would know. I would be able to tell. As I was looking up at her, feeling our baby kicking a shifting inside her, I knew it felt right.  
She rests her hand over mine on her stomach, looking up at me with a thrilled smile,  
I opened my mouth...  
'I love you. I need you in my future. Marry me.'   
It didn't sound right.  
Nothing came out.   
I think she took it as surprise from what I was feeling, but as soon as I took a breath to start again, the words just wouldn't come to me. The more I thought about it, the more I figured she would think it was just the excitement of the moment, and she has to know that I mean this.   
I can't screw it up.   
Before I know it, I feel the right moment slip away.  
My heart sinks as I wonder if I'd only get the one chance.   
I have to have a second chance.  
"You're never letting go of my stomach now, are you?" She giggled at me,  
I won't chicken out next time.  
"Nope." I chuckled, I don't think she notices how halfhearted it is. I pull her into my side, my hand never leaving her belly, and we get back to the movie as I whisper, "Never letting you go."


	21. Chapter 21

"Ouch!" You yelp,   
"Did you run into the changing table again?" Sebastian calls from the living room,  
"...Maybe."   
He appears in the doorway to the nursery, obviously trying to stifle his laughter, though he looks sympathetic at the sight of you rubbing your stomach where you had jabbed yourself on the corner of the table.   
"What happened?"  
"I was trying to put some books away, I turned around and..."  
"You know, we can move it. It should fit under the window just fine."  
"I like the room like this." You insist, in the past five months, you hadn't managed to find any work, so you and Seb agreed it would be a good time for you to set up the nursery however you wanted it, to dispel stir craziness if nothing else, and you insisted it be just as he had described. "Besides, it's not the placement, it's the fact that military tanks weren't meant to navigate in apartments."  
He laughs at you, crossing the room to pull you backward into him, his arms wrapping loosely around you,  
"You're no tank. Trust me." You twist around to stare at him, unamused, "Seriously." He points to himself, "Bucky Barnes, World War II super hero, remember?"  
"Bucky wasn't a super hero," you deadpan, "Awesome hero: yes. Super: no. The winter soldier, on the other hand: super, but not a hero."  
"Hey now," Seb looks scandalized, "I'll have you know--"  
"He redeems himself, yeah yeah yeah, I know. And I know I should probably be used to this," you gesture to your now prominent belly, "but I just can't help it." You hiss at the mild pain as you smooth your hand over what you're afraid will soon be a bruise. His smile quickly drops to a concerned frown, the larger you got, the more prone to clumsiness you'd become,   
"Honestly, you're almost worrying me, should I stay a little while longer?"  
"You have to get to that shoot. Seriously, we have another month to go, I'll be fine. Mom will be here the day after tomorrow, anyway."  
"I think I'd feel better if I stuck around... just until then."   
"There's no need, and you would be watching an empty apartment. Tonight is Amy's wedding shower, remember? Tomorrow I'll probably just be lazing around here trying to recover from that. And besides, you've already put this off long enough. You have to go."  
After a little more urging, he finally concedes, agreeing to leave as planned. He had been working on a project he refused to go into detail about, which made you figure it had to be with Marvel, they were so tight-lipped about things you couldn't even get Chris to spill anything. A few hours later, he was on his way to DC for a week of on-site filming and you were getting dolled up for a quiet party, trying your best to ignore the nervous butterflies that were threatening to turn to heartburn, or worse, at the prospect of being a party hostess. Already several hours into the party, all of your guests, mostly friends of Amy's from her dance company, some mutual friends from your years together at college, seem to be enjoying themselves.   
While Amy would drop hints about her salacious requirements for her bachelorette party, you could tell she was having a good time, chatting, laughing, and wholeheartedly participating in the ridiculous games you'd planned for her.  
All evening, you'd managed a flexible schedule, moving fluidly from one activity to the next, all from your comfort zone behind your camera, and all while receiving travel updates from Sebastian, when his plane took off, when he landed, when he got to his hotel, replying whenever you could.  
"Alright." You announce, "I think it's finally time for your presents."  
Amy bounces excitedly, like a child on Christmas morning, while you ready your list for recording what present came from whom, juggling the notepad with your camera.  
"Okay, Katie, we'll start with yours." You pass the present to her, taking a deep breath through a new wave of aches in your stomach. Amy looks at you funny but lets it slide. You can see she starts to watch you closer after that.  
Snap the picture. Record the name. List the present. Move on.  
"Megan, looks like you're next!"   
Keep breathing, nice and deep. Picture. Name. Present.   
"You okay, girl?" Amy asks quietly, turning to grab a package from you. You can tell she's trying to keep her tone light, but she can't mask her concern,  
"I think I just ate too fast." You wave her off, urging her to keep going with her gifts,  
"Are you sure you ate enough?" She presses, setting the box aside and pouring you a glass of juice, which you down in just a few gulps, "Maybe your sugar is taking a nosedive."   
"You could easily be dehydrated, too." Carla, Amy's mom, chimes in, "Easily done when you're in your third trimester. You've been running around like a madwoman all day, directing such a wonderful party," she presses a plate of finger foods into your hands, trading you for your camera, and passes you a glass of water, insisting that you drink. "How about you go take a seat, let me take over for just a bit." You open your mouth to argue, "I know the drill," she stops you gently, "I can take notes, one of the ladies can take the pictures for a little while. You just sit back and relax. You should be enjoying the party too."  
At the insistence of the other party-goers, you finally relent and take a seat on the couch. As soon as you sit, you groan in relief to be off your feet.  
You pick at the plate of food, try to drink the water, and slowly feel your muscles uncoiling as you watch Amy open gift after gift, some practical - a blender she would certainly use every morning, George too, probably; some touching - a lace handkerchief her grandmother made when she was in primary school that Amy could use as her "something old"; some amusing - the cliche lingerie that made everyone hoot and whistle. You had a good feeling that George would get plenty of use out of that gift too.  
Various wedding-night jokes were thrown around, making you laugh through your tired haze until a shooting pain crawled across your abdomen, turning your laugh into a yelp.  
The laughter in the room peters out as everyone turns to look at you. Despite the pain, you feel like shrinking back at the attention of almost two dozen women.  
"Sorry," you croak, "I'm fine."  
"You sure?" Amy asks, frowning, "That didn't sound fine."  
"I am, really. I probably just need more water--" you're cut short by another pain, lower, more insistent. You clench your eyes shut, vaguely aware of movement around you,  
"Can you stand up, hon?"  
You force your eyes open to see Carla knelt in front of you. You wrestle through a deep breath, nodding, slowly making your way to your feet. At the sound of your pained groan, you see Amy reach for her phone.  
"I'm calling an ambulance." You try to stop her, not wanting to cause too big a fuss, but are startled into silence by a sudden warmth spreading down your legs.  
"Oh dear." Carla breathes beside you, "We have to leave now, there's no time to wait."   
"What? What happened?" You ask with growing terror at the urgency in her voice. You look down at your feet, your heart plummeting at the sight of the murky red fluid.  
You're bleeding.  
.  
.  
"Hey, Seb, it's Amy, we think Y/N just went into labor, we're taking her to the hospital now... You should probably get here ASAP. Call me back as soon as you get this."   
Amy and Carla were just shy of frantic when they tucked you into the car. The women at the party insisted they could clean up and none of you would have to think about it. Amy had been trying to get a hold of Sebastian for the past five minutes solid as Carla tried to keep you calm, navigating traffic and finding the quickest route to the hospital,  
"This can't happen now. Seb's in DC. He won't get here in time. This can't happen now!"  
"Sweetheart, I need to you breathe. Keep breathing, nice and slow. Very good. We're gonna get you to your doctor and your boyfriend will be here as soon as he can."  
You don't even think to correct her as another of what you're beginning to recognize as contractions steals your breath.  
Screeching to a halt at the hospital some fifteen or twenty minutes later, Carla runs in to get a nurse and a wheelchair while Amy gets a call back from George, who had called Chris, all three still trying to reach Sebastian.  
"Amy this can't be happening." You whisper into the quiet car. She rests her hand on your shoulder.  
"I'm sure everything will be fine, Y/N."  
"He almost stayed." You groan, "He had a bad feeling and insisted he stay with me a little while longer. Why did I tell him to go?"   
"Neither of you could have known anything would happen."   
Before anything else could be said, you're whisked out of the car, into a wheelchair, and pushed into the emergency room.  
The flurry of activity around you fades to the background, a static grating on your nerves, as you try to keep breathing through waves of pain. You're hooked to different monitors, undressed and redressed in a hospital gown, IVs stabbed into your hands, asked questions you don't want to have to think to answer; you hear medical terms thrown around that do nothing for you besides fuel your worry.   
What was happening? What if none of them know? What if they can't save you? What if you lose this one too?  
The pain slowly fades, leaving nothing to distract you from the hurried orders being called by the doctor, and despite all the people telling you to stay calm, your anxiety steadily grows.   
You hear a male voice at the door, insisting on being let in. He finally fights his way past a nurse who tries to hold him back,  
"Chris!" You call him in shock, he runs to you, taking your hand,  
"Sebastian's on his way, his flight just left. He should be here in 2 hours at the most. Think you can hold on that long?"  
"We're doing everything we can to delay labor." Your doctor cuts in, the activity around you calming only slightly, still urgent but less frantic,  
"Ah, see? It's gonna be fine. He has time, he'll be here."  
"Well, actually," she speaks up again, "Your water's already broken, so we can only delay so long, otherwise we risk infection to you and the baby, we may have to deliver sooner than I'd like. We are checking on the baby and keeping an eye on your vitals, but if anything changes, I may have to do a C-section."  
You can't hold back anymore and tears spill over, all the worst case scenarios run through your head, all ending with you left alone. Again.   
You feel Chris's arm across your shoulder, wrapping you in a hug and kissing the top of your head.  
"It's going to be fine." He keeps whispering,  
"Either way," Dr. Yoon continues, "being a month early, you will be preterm, but there is a very good chance that everything will be just fine. While I know it's easier said than done, you just have to keep calm. We are here to take care of both of you."  
The next hour is spent in agonizing anticipation of the worst, watching the clock, wishing Sebastian were there. Chris stays by your side, checking his phone constantly, both of you waiting on news from Seb.   
"I'll be right back." He says softly, stepping out for a cup of coffee. You focus on your breathing, no thinking, no wondering, no problem solving, just breathing in time with your heart rate monitor which keeps time with the various monitors reporting on your child's vitals.  
In. Beep beep.  
Out. Beep beep.  
In. Beep beep.  
Your breath out dissolves into a moan as a new pain, white-hot and searing, radiates up your stomach. It grows so intense so quickly you don't even have the chance to call for a nurse.  
Chris steps back in, excitedly, his phone pressed to his ear,  
"Seb's plane landed! He should be here in--"  
The baby's monitors start squealing, stopping him in his tracks. He spins around, yelling for the doctor, and is promptly nudged aside to make way for Dr Yoon and a few nurses.   
She examines you quickly,   
"This baby is determined not to stay put." She says, almost frustrated, "The medicine isn't working, your labor is continuing to advance--"  
"Doctor." A nurse cuts her off, showing her a print out, from one of the monitors,  
"The baby is in distress, Y/N. I'm sorry, but I have to get you into the OR. Now."  
"No, we can't. Sebastian's not here!"   
"Y/N." Chris speaks low beside you're ear, "You have to go now. I'll bring him to you as soon as he gets here, just go."  
"I can't do this by myself." You whisper through your tears.  
"We're all here. You're not by yourself. You're going to be just fine." He says, looking you right in the eyes, "Everything will be fine. I promise."  
He walks with you all the way to the operating room where you're separated from him, overhearing a nurse telling him to wait in the hall while you're prepped for a C-section. A drape is set up, blocking your view; anesthesia injected, slowly numbing everything from your ribs down; you try to get a handle on your tears, try to tell yourself whatever Sebastian would tell you,  
'You're strong. You're stubborn. You can handle this.'  
You imagine his fingers carding through your hair, his thumb stroking across your cheek,  
"I'm right here. You can do this." It takes you a second to realize you weren't imagining him. You turn, seeing him take a seat on a stool, right beside you, breathless, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He takes your hand to press a kiss to your fingers. His hair was tied back, covered with a surgical cap, still in his wardrobe from filming, covered clumsily by scrubs, his face still with traces of his make up from set. His eyes are pained as he whispers, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there."  
"We're ready." Dr. Yoon says, "This won't take long, just make sure you keep still. You'll feel some pressure, but that's normal, don't let it worry you."  
You keep your eyes on Sebastian's, gripping his hand as tight as you can. He smooths away a rogue tear that rolls from the corner of your eye,  
"I should have been there."  
You shake your head at him,  
"You couldn't have known. There was no reason. No warning. You had to go to work."  
"What if you'd been alone at home?"  
"I would have called someone."  
"What if--"  
"No more. You're here. Just stay here."  
"I'm not going anywhere."   
You frown at the feeling of tugging discomfort, and he peeks over the drape. His initial squeamish expression fades and his eyes brighten,  
"What do you see?"  
"A head. They're almost here."  
You almost hold your breath, the pulling and prodding at your stomach unsettles you, though never actually hurts.   
"It's out... She's out... She... She's here." He looks down at you, his eyes wide, welling, with a growing smile of wonder,   
"She?" You ask quietly,   
"We have a baby girl." He says, resting his forehead on yours. You're ready to celebrate when the silence in the room hits you like a train,  
"Seb... She isn't crying."   
He looks back up in time to see Dr. Yoon whisk his daughter to a table in the opposite wall,   
"Sebastian, why isn't she crying? What's happening?"  
"She's not breathing." You hear your doctor say with a tinge of urgency, "Her heartbeat is fine, everything is normal, she's just not breathing."  
In an instant that feels like it stretches to eternity you see the vision of Sebastian rocking your little girl to sleep, you watch it fade away for the second time that night,  
"Come on, baby, cry for me." You say weakly, "Cry for me, honey." Your voice gathers strength,  
"Margaret! Cry for me, Margaret, come on!"   
Everything seems to go quiet. You don't hear the nurses communicating as they stitch you up. You don't hear the monitors beeping. You don't hear anything.   
Until that first whimper.   
A pitiful croaking cry raises from the table in front of Dr. Yoon, and the entire room seems to let out a collective sigh, relief palpable and infectious.   
Sebastian holds you as best he can with you laid out on the table, both of you finally breathing easier. Dr. Yoon appears around the drape a few minutes later,   
"I have someone here who'd like to meet you two." She says, passing a tiny, squirming bundle to Sebastian.   
He holds his baby girl awkwardly, unsure of himself, not wanting to hurt her,   
"So far she's perfectly fine, a good weight for preterm, though she's still a little bit small. We'd like to keep you both for a few days for observation, give you a chance to heal up a bit, but for now, there's no danger to worry about."   
You nod, thanking your doctor after she informs you you'll be moved to a recovery room soon, unable to look away from your baby girl and her father. Sebastian turns, leaning toward you,  
"Hey, baby girl, this is your mama." He says, she coos, grunts, fussing before she begins to cry again. You reach for her, so small you're afraid to touch her, afraid you're about to wake up and the whole thing will have been a dream, until Sebastian looks at you.   
His look of fondness grounds you; the evident, unveiled love in his eyes keeping you in reality. He passes you your daughter, laying her gently on your chest,  
"Little Margaret. Just determined not to stay in there any longer, huh?" The more you talked to her the more she quieted down, her eyes barely opening for just a second, glancing up at you before closing them again, napping as she was nestled against you.  
Seb leans forward to kiss your forehead, one hand on Margaret, one on the back of your head; you look up at him as he leans in, making him pause. He changes his mind, pulls you closer, leaning lower, kissing your lips.  
Pulling back, he looks you in the eyes and you see a fear there that unsettles you, a nervousness that confuses you, until he speaks.  
"I love you." He says simply. And suddenly your worry, nerves that you steeled as you expected bad news, melts away,   
"I know." You whisper with a chuckle.


	22. Chapter 22

"I can't believe I didn't make it in time." Your mother fussed. You could hear rustling on her end of the call, probably some intense rage packing,  
"Mom, seriously. It was a surprise for everyone. Seb almost didn't even make it."  
Glancing at him, you can see the faraway look he gets when you mention it, but he just shifts in his chair next to your bed, not meeting your eye,  
"What? Where was he?"  
"He had to work. Got called out to D.C. He actually made it back just in time."  
"You were alone?" She near-shrieked,  
"No, mom! I was at Amy's bridal shower. I wasn't alone, I'm not alone now. Everything is fine. Everyone is fine."   
Regardless of your insistence, she continues her fretting, making it difficult not to roll your eyes at her.  
"I need to get an earlier flight..." You hear her start to plan,   
"Mom, you're already going to be here tomorrow night. There's no reason to come any earlier."  
"But what if something else happens? I need to be there--"  
"Mom. Please. Don't worry about this. I'm not even headed back home yet, just take a breath. You'll be here tomorrow. In the meantime, I have plenty of people looking out for me here." You finally catch Sebastian's eye and he gives you a little smile that he can't quite get to reach his eyes.  
You hear the door open and turn to see Amy peeking in,  
"Mom, I have to go, I'll let you finish your packing and talk to you later. Okay?"  
You hear her sigh heavily, but she surrenders all the same,  
"Okay. Let me know if anything changes."  
Saying goodbye, you wave your friends into the room, gingerly pushing yourself upright in your bed,  
"So? Where is she?" Amy whispers first, George and Chris on her heels through the door. You smile at Seb, and this time he gives you a real smile back, getting up and leaning over the bassinet beside you to scoop up a little pink bundle,  
"Everyone," he begins, "meet Margaret Elisabeta Stan."  
"Stan?" George asks, blinking in evident surprise, which earns him a look from Amy saying he likely shouldn't press either of you,  
"I want her to have her father's name." You explain, "It makes sense to me."  
He tries to hide it, but you see Seb straighten slightly, brimming with pride,  
"Any idea of when you get to take her home?" Chris asks, making faces at the baby from over Seb's shoulder,  
"Well, my doctor keeps saying she's totally fine. Completely out of the woods. I still need to stay for a couple of days, though. Standard recovery time and all. Upside: an extra, non-pregnant month before the wedding. That's gotta be good, right?"  
Amy nods, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully, making you worry as you see the wheels turning in her head,  
"What?" You ask her warily, not liking her plotting expression,  
"What?" She responds with an innocent shrug,  
You're about to try to talk her out of whatever it is when you hear Margaret gurgle and fuss,  
"Aw, este bine, fetita. Calmeaza-te." Seb whispers to her, snuggling her closer and rocking to calm her. You both decided that you wanted her to be able to understand Romanian from the start, so Seb had been trying to teach you, at least little phrases you could use with her.   
You were surprisingly rubbish at it, but you'd almost gotten the hang of it. You thought you understood a few words, like him calling her 'little girl' or telling her not to worry. You were still working on it though, so most of the time you were practically guessing.  
Meanwhile, she wasn't calming down, which meant one thing:  
"Ti-e foame?" You cooed, reaching for her. Despite your thick American accent, Seb still looked pleasantly surprised,  
"Not bad." He nodded in approval, "She's hungry, huh?"  
He passed her to you and discreetly asked for some privacy so that you could feed her. The little group was almost to the door when you remembered,  
"Amy," you catch her at the door, "please don't booby trap my apartment."  
She winks, which almost puts you at ease, but unsettles you at the same time. You don't have much time to worry about it as Margaret fusses more insistently, determined to be fed,  
"Um..." Sebastian starts, "She wouldn't actually do that, right?"  
"Wish I could say she wouldn't."   
He chuckles uncomfortably, looking like he may want to follow them, but like it's not worth leaving you. He pulls out his phone instead, texting Chris to keep an eye on George and Amy if they end up back at the apartment,  
"You can go with them if you're that worried." You chuckle,  
"Yeah right." He looks at you like you're crazy, "Remember what happened last time I left?" You think it was supposed to be a joke, but the memory was sobering either way.  
Balancing Margaret with one arm, now content to be eating, you reach for his hand,  
"None of this was your fault. There's nothing you could have done differently, and it all turned out fine. Try not to worry over it."  
"But what if--"  
You pull him down to you, silencing his argument with a kiss.   
When you try to pull away, he holds onto you, pulling you closer, kissing you deeper. He strokes his thumb across your jaw, combing his other hand through your hair as he pulls back with a sigh and leans his forehead against yours.  
"I hope you know," he whispers, "I'm not letting you girls go anytime soon."   
"Good thing you won't have to."  
.  
.  
.  
"Do you want me to go in and check first?" Seb asks as the two of you approach your apartment. Two days later, you've been discharged from the hospital, your family finally getting to go home.  
"Nah, it's fine. Amy knows that I'll lynch her if she scares Maggie her first night home." You speak loud enough that you can be sure she hears you through the door,  
"For Pete's sake!" You hear her gripe, her footsteps thumping down the hall, "You know I would never." She says, opening the door and stepping aside after alleviating Sebastian of your purse and duffle bag.  
He had determined that you would carry nothing heavier than the diaper bag, and no matter how awkward it seemed for him to be carrying Margaret in her carrier, and your duffle from your hospital stay, he wouldn't even allow you to take your purse. Even though he wouldn't admit it, he looked relieved when he was able to set down the baby seat, roll his shoulders, and flop down onto the couch  
"You want a drink?" You ask, half teasing,  
"Oh, I can get it. Don't worry about it." He says, starting to stand.  
"Don't even think about it." You push him back down, he hardly even puts up a fight. It just occurs to you how odd that is when you step into the kitchen and are met with a quiet, though enthusiastic,   
"Surprise!"  
Clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your yelp, you finally begin to register the faces of a dozen or so of your closest friends and a few family members all crammed into the small room with balloons, food, drinks, and even gifts,   
"What's this?" You ask, turning to see Seb and Amy smiling at you,  
"She was actually planning on this being next week." He says,  
"Generally, this would happen before the baby comes, but since she decided she was ready ahead of schedule, I figured you would probably need these things a bit early as well. Honestly, I was afraid they wouldn't be able to make it. Your extended stay at the hospital was the perfect opportunity, I couldn't pass it up." Amy says, almost bashful,   
You blink at her, still a little confused,  
"It's your baby shower."  
You try to chalk it up to pregnancy hormones, but you just can't hold in the flood of tears that spills over. Amid the shutter clicks and 'aw's, you get hugs and heartfelt congratulations from every friend,   
"So this is what you were planning?" You ask her, once well-wishes had been expressed,  
"Sort of. The real evil plan is what I'm considering your gift." With that she takes your and Sebastian's hands and leads you both down the hall, leaving Margaret with Mackie, Chris, and George all cooing over her.  
Without preamble, she leads you into the nursery.   
You gasp, taking in the pale yellow walls, the pastel butterflies and flowers in a mobile above a crib of dark wood, the glider rocker placed between the window and crib, various stuffed animals, the bookshelf overflowing with children's books. It was exactly what you pictured. Exactly what Seb described, and judging by the way he laces his arm around your back, he agrees,  
"Amy," he says quietly, "it's perfect."   
"I took some liberties on the decor, since we found out she's a girl. Thought it would be nice if it wasn't completely gender neutral. I also got George to put the bigger furniture together."  
"Seriously, Amy. Perfect." You say.  
She blushes, more than a little proud of her work,  
"I'll bring Maggie in." She says, leaving you two alone.  
You drift into each other, his arms wrapping around your back, yours finding their way around his neck, resting your head against his chest,  
"Welcome home." He says softly.  
You know what you want to say.  
It's on the tip of your tongue. Everything in you wants to say it.  
You lean your head back to look at him, open your mouth to speak,  
"I think someone is getting hungry... Or tired... Or she just doesn't like me, I don't know. I don't really speak baby... Oh." George appears at the door with a fussy Margaret, squirming in her carrier. He immediately senses his interruption, "Maybe we should come back later, Magpie, looks like mommy and daddy are busy."  
"No," you tell him, reaching for her, "it's okay, we want her to see her room anyway, right?"   
He sets the carrier on the changing table and you carefully scoop her up,   
"I'm gonna go... grab something to eat. Yeah, that sounds believable." He says, backing out of the room.  
"Not exactly overflowing with tact, is he?" Seb chuckles when George is gone,  
"You have to ask? You remember the night we met, right?" You shake your head remembering the pitiful attempt at a set up.  
He looks at you thoughtfully,  
"I do."   
"I swear, if you say you loved me as soon as you saw me, baby or no baby, I'll smack you." You laugh.   
"Maybe not love, but if I hadn't just gotten out of a relationship... Maybe this wouldn't have taken so long." He says,   
"This? This what?"  
He steps forward, his hands digging a little deeper into his pockets. He takes a deep breath, about to speak,  
"Where are they?" You hear Elise's voice echo down the hall, followed by the front door closing, "I want to see my granddaughter."   
You can't help but snort when Seb closes his eyes, his head drooping with a sigh. You make him meet your eyes with a hand on his cheek, but before either of you can say any more, Elise appears in the doorway.  
"There she is!" She coos immediately, "Oh Sebastian, ea este frumoasa."  
"Oh, 'frumoasa'. 'Beautiful', right?" You ask Sebastian, he nods,  
"I don't know why you think you aren't getting the hang of it." He says, shaking his head at you,   
"Do you mind?" Elise asks and you pass her over, "I'm assuming she has a name, yes?"  
It finally dawned on you that Elise didn't get to visit while you were in the hospital. She hadn't heard.  
"We decided on Margaret Elisabeta Stan." You tell her.  
She gasps softly, looking between you and Sebastian, her eyes welling slightly. She takes a breath, looking down at the baby in her arms, the baby named after her,  
"Welcome home, Little Margaret." She says quietly.   
You catch Seb's eye,  
"Yeah," you breathe, "welcome home."


	23. Chapter 23

"No, don't get up, I can get you a drink, just sit."  
"Sebastian, I'm supposed to be moving around. You heard the doctor, I need to be up and about as much as I can be."  
"But I don't want you to overdo it."  
"I haven't gotten the chance to overdo anything. You even tried to help dress me this morning."  
"I'm already closer to the kitchen, let me get your drink."  
You flop back on the couch with a loud huff. You had just had your two-week check up the day before, and even though everything was as it should be and you were healing at a perfectly normal pace, he was on edge for the entire check up and hasn't left your side since. To begin with, you found it endearing that he cares so much, but going on two weeks of not being able to do anything for yourself is starting to fray your nerves.   
"The next thing I need, you have to let me get." You call to him as the kitchen door swings shut,  
"He's just trying to help, honey." Your mom chimes in, lugging a laundry bag of sheets and a basket of folded towels through the door.  
"But at what point does helping become hindering?" You mutter,  
"I know you don't like being coddled." She sighs, sitting beside you, "You never have. But he's scared. In his eyes, he came close to losing one or both of you, so now he's holding on as tight as he can."  
"And nearly smothering me in the process." Your scolding is cut short when he comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water, trying to quiet a crying Margaret,  
"Ce nu e bine?" He coos,   
"I think she's hungry." You say with a sigh, reaching for her, but he's hesitant to hand her over. "Seb, I guarantee you can't feed her for me."  
He still falters, not wanting to let her go.  
His phone begins ringing in his pocket and he sighs, finally handing her to you over the back of the couch.  
"Yeah," he says into the phone, distracted as he keeps his eyes on you and Maggie, but something suddenly pulls his attention away, "You said I could have the week, what do you mean?"  
He pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning,  
"Fine. I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow then." You think you hear an apology come through from the other end, but he seems to dismiss it with a cold 'talk to you tomorrow'.  
"What happened?"  
"I was supposed to get the rest of the week to stay with you two, but they've gotten to a point in production that they need me back or everything will come to a stand-still."  
"So you're going back to DC."  
"I have to leave tonight. They're texting me my travel info." A chime from his phone sounds as if on cue. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry."  
"Why?"  
"I should be here."  
"You need to finish this job, Seb. There's nothing here for you to do that my mom can't cover for a week or however long, and your mom is in town as backup, Amy is still here and and we still have things to plan for the wedding. There's nothing to worry about. We're all fine."  
"That's what you said last time." He says quietly, trudging down the hall, your assuming he's going to get packed.  
"Go easy on him." Your mom says gently,  
"I didn't realize I was being harsh."  
"It's nice that he wants to be here--"  
"And I understand his worry. I just need him to let me figure this out too. If I'm not able to do anything for myself, how am I going to get to that point?"  
"Hon, you need to talk to him about this."  
"He doesn't want to hear it. Every time I mention it he gets defensive. I don't mind him wanting to help. I'm grateful he's around. I really am..."  
"Have you seen my charger?" Seb asks, peeking down the hall,  
"The drawer in your nightstand."   
He nods and goes back to packing,  
"Ever thought maybe it'll wear off? The longer the both of you go without incident, the better he must feel." You're mom offers,  
"It's been two weeks, mom."  
"Two weeks of wondering if he's about to lose you again. Thinking that at any moment, something unexpected could surface and everything will come crashing down."  
You know she's right, and suddenly, your frustration with Sebastian melts away to an understanding.   
You're mom lets you work through your thoughts on your own, on the pretense of starting on lunch.  
"I think that's it." Seb says, reemerging from the back room and dropping a duffle by the front door. He pats his pockets and glances around the room. Double checking that he has everything.  
"Do you have twenty minutes?" You ask him out of the blue, he tilts his head at you in question, "Maggie needs to be burped, if you have time... If you want..."  
His eyes brighten a little bit,  
"Leaving the 'fun' for me, huh?" He jokes with a halfhearted smile, taking a seat beside you.  
Taking Maggie, he tosses a cloth over his shoulder and lays her gently against it, proceeding to pat her back softly.  
"You really shouldn't worry about us, Seb." You tell him quietly, he doesn't respond, but you see his jaw tighten, "I just don't want you to be unable to work or even leave the house."  
"Do we really have to talk about this?" He says, standing up to bounce and sway with Margaret,   
"I was hoping not, but I think we do."  
"Why?"  
"Because, as much as you want to be, you can't be here all the time. You have to trust that I can take care of her, and myself, and if that's not enough, trust that our friends have our backs."  
He's quiet for a long time, swaying with his back to you before finally breaking the silence,  
"I was so close."  
He speaks so quietly you almost miss it,  
"To what?"  
"To losing everything."  
You've heard your mother say this so many times, you're surprised at how your heart aches when you hear it come from him, but before you can say anything, offer any comfort, his phone chimes with another text. Even from your view of his back, you can see him swipe at his eyes, running a hand over his face before pulling his phone from his pocket, right as it chimes again.   
"I have to get going." He disguises a sniffle with a deep breath and pockets his phone after a quick reply.  
You stop him as he reaches for his bag,  
"Seb."  
"Huh?"   
"You have to leave her with me." You giggle. He looks at the baby sleeping on his shoulder like he's not sure how she got there. Taking his time to cross the room, he lays her in your arms after kissing her forehead. She squirms away from his stubble, but doesn't wake. He kisses the top of your head, hesitantly making his way back to the door.   
"Jacket." You say when he reaches for the doorknob. He grabs his leather jacket from the hook by the door and turns to you, looking like he doesn't know what comes next.   
"Your bag."  
He slings the strap over his shoulder with a sigh.  
"I bet I can talk them into letting me stay."  
"Keep this up and they'll end up killing off your character."  
"They would never." He laughs, the sound putting you at ease.   
"Oh, on your way already? That's impressive." Your mom says, coming back from the kitchen with a tray of food and a bag.  
She passes the bag to Sebastian,   
"For the road." She explains, "You haven't been eating much, I don't think your boss will be too happy if you keep dropping weight like you've been doing."  
"Thanks." He smiles, looking back at you,  
"Keep your phone on." You say with what you hope is an encouraging smile. He nods, and with one last deep breath, and apparent difficulty, he forces himself out the door.  
.  
.  
.  
Going on nine days since Sebastian left for DC, you've been consistently texting updates, keeping him in the loop every time Margaret did anything from yawn to spit up.   
"She eating alright? ;)" came his reply to your last update,  
"You're incorrigible."   
"Do you not like that I want to see you just as much as I want to see my daughter?"  
"It's the part of me you're asking to see that makes me roll my eyes."  
"Hahaha, I'll take any part of you that you'll send... That particular part of you would be nice, though." You can almost hear his suggestive tone, not having any trouble conjuring up that lopsided smile, the look through his lashes that still makes your stomach jump to your throat.   
You consider, for a moment, just sending him a picture of your hand. Flipping him off, of course.   
"I'm not sexting you, Sebastian."  
"I wasn't asking you to. Honest. ;)"  
You don't reply immediately because Margaret stirs, starting to fuss.  
You cradle her, holding her closer and rocking side to side. Your phone chimes.  
"Not even a toe, huh?"   
You roll your eyes at him,  
"I. Don't. Like. Pictures. Of me."  
"I. Do."  
"Don't you have work to do?"  
"Lunch break. And it's almost over. One more picture. Please?"  
You want to ignore the last plea. Want to just let him squirm as he goes back to work. There's nothing he can say that will convince you to take a picture of your daughter breastfeeding.   
However.   
Looking down at her now as she looks back at you, eyes wide and curious, bright blue just like his; her dark, unruly hair sticking out at all angles, refusing to cooperate with your headbands and bows; you tamp down the unsettled feeling you get every time a camera is trained on you.   
Grudgingly, you open the front camera on your phone. Trying not to look too hard at yourself so you can avoid scowling, you make sure you and Margaret are adequately framed and there is no backlight or glare. You focus the shot, close your eyes, snuggling into her and pressing a kiss to the side of her head as you prop her up to look straight into the camera. You press the 'capture' button, hear the shutter click, and send it before you can talk yourself out of it.  
Waiting a while for a reply, you start to wonder if you missed him and he had to get back to work. Until finally, you see him start to type.  
Then he stops.   
Types again.  
Stops.   
Then finally,  
"My girls." He replies simply, making your heart swell in response.   
"Your girls," you reply, trying to convince yourself not to cry, though currently you're failing, "are waiting here for you. Margaret says to hurry up and finish working so you can come home and sing to her again. She must really want to heckle you some more."  
Seb had taken to singing old lullabies he heard when he was little. In the near-two-weeks that the three of you had been home together, it seemed like that was the only thing that could quiet her when she woke up at 3 in the morning.   
"I resent that. She loves my singing."   
"That's not what she's saying now. ;)"   
"Little Peg needs to tell her mommy to stop putting words in her mouth. :P"   
The conversation lulls for a minute or two,   
"Lunch break is over. I expect an apology from 'Margaret' when I get back." You know he's still playing along, so you don't worry.  
"Hey, Seb?"  
You send the message before you can think through what you're about to type,  
"What's up?"  
You type it slowly. You've never said it. Not to him. Afraid it would jinx something if you did. And right now everything was so perfect you just wanted to keep it that way.   
You delete the text.   
Retype it.  
Delete it.  
Not now. Not like this.  
You erase your message for the fourth or fifth time in favor of:   
"Just finish up so you can come home, okay?"  
"Anything for my girls."


	24. Chapter 24

"It'll be perfect. It has to be. I still have to figure out a way to talk to her parents about it and get their blessing. Then next week, after we've recovered a little bit from this weekend, I'm taking her out to Central Park for a photography day. In the loch, there's this bridge that she loves... If I could get some help setting everything up beforehand, that's where it'll be."  
"Taking Magpie with you?" George chimes in,  
"Of course."   
To this day, Sebastian couldn't tell you how, at George's Bachelor party, the subject got onto him or how he was finally working up the courage to show you how much he loved you, but there he was in the corner of the bar, being toasted by the group,  
"Now what kind of set up we're you needing?"   
.  
.  
.  
"He was actually kinda smothering me there for awhile. Wouldn't let me do anything for myself. Insisted if I stood up I was gonna fall apart. When he had to go to work, it forced him to realize we were okay and that it would stay that way."  
"Aw!" Amy coos,  
"No. Not 'aw'. I'm sure you'd give George a piece of your mind if he never let you do anything."  
Amy's rebuttal is interrupted by a waitress bringing the table the third round of drinks of the night, this one courtesy of a group of men across the club. You mentally commend the waitress for remembering to keep your drinks virgin,  
"Come on, I'm sure he let you do some things."  
"He couldn't eat for me. He couldn't shower for me. But he definitely tried. Any time I got to a point where I had to figure something out or I was getting a little uncomfortable, he was right there taking over for me."  
"He was just--"  
"--trying to help. I know. I had this same conversation with my mom. I get it. I really do. And now that he's cooled down with it, it's easier to see that it was really all he could do. I love Seb, but he's too hyperactive to wait patiently when he's worried--"  
"What did you say?"  
"He's hyperactive? I know he seems like the strong silent type, but the man is like a pup--"  
"No... Before that."  
.  
.  
.  
"I can't believe you're gonna do it, man!" George says, thumping Sebastian on the shoulder, "I'm really happy for you two... Even if it has taken too long."  
"Need I remind you, we've only known each other for a little under a year?"  
"So?"  
"So? How many people do you know that have gotten engaged in that amount of time? You've been with Amy how long and you're just getting married?"  
"Fair enough.... But that whole dancing-around-an-actual-relationship thing was getting ridiculous and you know it."  
Sebastian rolls his eyes with a chuckle.  
.  
.  
.  
"You told him? Finally?" Amy all but squeals."  
"...no." You giggle as her face falls dramatically,  
"I almost did, but we were kind of interrupted the first time and over text wasn't right and then the past few weeks I've been so busy with this that finding the right moment hasn't been too easy."  
"I'm about to make the right moment if you take any longer, this is ridiculous girl!"  
"I know. I was even thinking that the wedding might be a good time, but I don't want him thinking it's just because of the event..."  
"I think you'd be surprised."  
.  
.  
.  
"I'm home!" Seb calls as he walks in, dropping his blazer on the couch,  
"Seb?" You call, peeking into the hall from the nursery, "what are you doing back?"  
He shrugs, leaning over Maggie as she lounges in your arms. She squeals excitedly when she sees him and leans for him to take her,  
"I didn't want to leave you girls all night." He snuggles His little girl close,  
"But what about the guys? We already decided you could stay out with them for the bachelor party. I have things handled here."  
"Yeah, I know you do." He smiles fondly at you, "I just missed my girls."  
"You're such a sap." You shake your head at him but you can't hide your smile,  
"I'm your sap, though." He says, throwing his arm over your shoulder and kissing your temple. Maggie squirms against his neck, nuzzling closer, "What's she doing up so late, anyway?" He asks,  
"She doesn't seem to want to go back to sleep, I don't know what's going on. I've read to her, rocked her, fed her, she's not sick, not even fussy, she just doesn't want to sleep."  
"You go get yourself ready for bed. Take a break. I'll give it a try."  
As much as you want to argue, it finally hits you how uncomfortable you are in your dress from the bachelorette party and the few hairpins that have survived to now are really starting to pull. You leave him with a nod, tickling Margaret's cheek and kissing her goodnight.   
Back in your room, you stand in from of the mirror, hair tumbling down your back a chunk of curls at a time as each section is liberated. The folds of your black dress expertly conceal the pregnancy weight you'll need to start working on soon, the idea making you sigh. Then you hear it. One of your favorite sounds:  
"Haida nani nani,  
Puisorul mamii,  
Domi in leganut,  
Puisorul dragut."  
Sebastian singing Margaret's favorite lullaby. While he started out just this side of tone-deaf, the more he sings it to her, the better he gets. It takes you a while to realize that you're humming along.   
About ten minutes later, you're washed up and getting into bed when Seb comes in.  
"Knocked right out. You should try singing to her sometime, it sounds like you've just about got that song down."  
"How about 'Nu'." You say,  
"You learned that word quick." He snorts at your Romanian refusal. Between getting changed and brushing up, he sheds layers throughout the room in his own bedtime ritual of making the biggest mess he could.   
Okay, making a mess isn't part of his process of getting ready for bed, but sometimes it seemed like it to you.   
"You're sure you're not worried about missing something at the party?" You ask as he pulls on his pajama pants and a T-shirt. He huffs out a chuckle, sitting next to you as you lay in bed,  
"I'm already exhausted anyway. We've also gotta be at the park pretty early for the ceremony tomorrow. It would feel like an ungodly hour if I partied all night."  
"Aw, look at you. Too old to party." You joke, earning an indignant look.  
"Oh, I can party." He assures you, his voice taking on an edge that almost makes you nervous, but in the best way possible, "Care for a reminder?" He jumps onto the bed, sitting on your legs. He leans over you. So close. Pressing you into the mattress.  
He leans closer. Hands finding your hips. Closer. Fingertips sliding under the hem of your shirt.  
You howl in surprise as he tickles you. Your ribs. Your stomach. He pins you down so you have nowhere to go, laughing at your fruitless attempts to free yourself. A particularly loud squeal from you has you both freezing, looking toward the wall your bedroom shares with the nursery.   
Ten seconds tick by...  
Twenty...  
Forty...  
A full minute and not a sound from Maggie. You each let out a sigh of relief,  
"Maybe not the best idea?" You whisper, slapping his shoulder playfully.  
"Still the best idea. Next time I just need to remember how loud you are."  
You roll your eyes at him, pushing him off your legs. He goes willingly, flopping next to you with a bounce.  
"What?" He asks when he notices you staring at him.  
You jolt yourself out of your thoughts with a shake of your head, you just couldn't seem to stop thinking back to the talk you'd had with Amy that night.   
Would you know when the time was right? Or would you always find an excuse to back down?  
Feeling him brush your hair back from your forehead, you gulp, realizing you still haven't answered,  
"Nothing." You croak, your throat too dry.   
You wonder if you imagine his face falling slightly. It could just be him getting sleepier, so you try not to let yourself think about his fatigue being caused by you, by choking so royally, by chickening out again.   
"Nothing," you say again, clearer, hoping your disappointment in yourself isn't as painfully evident as it seems to you, "just..." You reach up to him, your hand carding through his hair. "Goodnight, Seb." You pull him down to you, kissing him soundly, surely. His hand finds yours, tangling your fingers.   
He finally pulls away,  
"Goodnight." He says softly, his lips barely leaving yours before leaning into you once more.   
He turns off the light, slipping lower into bed with you, pressed close. His arm drapes over you, his fingers still intertwined with yours.


	25. Chapter 25

"Amy, take a breath. Just breathe."  
"But what if something else goes wrong? The florist already delivered the wrong flowers--"  
"And they still match the decorations."  
"The musicians who were supposed to play for the processional are late-"  
"But they'll still make it on time, and they were here for the rehearsal two days ago."  
"But what if something big happens?"  
"Like what?"  
"Like... What if... What if George..."  
You turn Amy to face you, stopping her from fidgeting with her wedding dress, and looking her straight in the eyes,  
"You know George."  
"Yeah, I do." She huffs, her tone betraying her fear,  
"No. You know how crazy he is about you. You know that even if he's nervous, it's not about whether this is the right thing to do. You know he would do absolutely anything for you. And we all know he can't wait to be married to you."  
.  
.  
.  
"Do you think Amy's okay?" George asks Seb, straightening his cuffs again. He tugs at his collar, clearly uncomfortable.  
"I'm sure Amy's fine," Seb assures him, stopping his squirming and fixing his collar, "why are you so freaked, though?"  
George sighs, raking a hand through his hair then smoothing it back out again. He digs his hands into his pockets, looking toward the arch where in just about an hour, he is going to make the biggest commitment of his life.  
"What if--"   
"'What if's are a killer, man." Sebastian whistles,  
"I just... What if she changes her mind?" He asks, his voice small,  
"About what?"  
"About me. What if she wakes up one day and decides we aren't right for each other after all? What if we get married and it isn't what she thought it would be?" He sighs, "What if she decides she doesn't want me after all?"  
Seb sees the genuine worry in George's eyes and claps him on the shoulder,   
"You would go to hell and back, barefoot, uphill both ways for her."  
George chuckles, "Do you see that changing any time soon?"  
"Never."  
"Exactly. So you show her. Every day. You remind her that she is everything to you and always will be. Any way you can think of, from a random 'I love you' after a long day, to an elaborate date night. Never give her the chance to wonder if you still love her."  
George is quiet for a while,   
"You're quoting your own proposal aren't you?" He jokes,  
"I may have sampled it." Seb shrugs with a smirk.  
Before anything else can be said, the wedding coordinator interrupts, insisting the men take their places.  
.  
.  
.  
While the day seemed to be threatening rain with heavy, dark clouds hanging over the gardens, the weather seemed to be cooperating for the time being.   
You pause, just for a moment to take in all the decoration. The lanterns in the trees, the contrast of the green grass and the ivy draped across the backs of the bright white chairs, the aisle leading up to an archway which was surrounded and covered with the beginnings of the summer blooms. Everything was perfect.  
"It's time." You tell Amy when you get the signal. The men are in place, the ladies are up next, "Time to go for a walk."  
While Amy still looks a little shaken up, still expecting the worst to happen, she heaves a deep breath and nods. You lead her to her starting point where, after a few calming breaths, you all hear the processional music begin.  
You stick with Amy as long as you can, offering a smile, a pat on the shoulder.   
The flower girl walks down the aisle. You assure Amy that she looks beautiful, that George won't know what hit him.   
Kayla, Amy's bridesmaid, starts down the aisle.  
You take your best friend's hand, giving it one last squeeze, before the coordinator gives you your cue and nudges you forward.   
You try to walk casually, calmly, smiling at George or friends that you see seated around you, doing your best not to betray the sympathetic butterflies you feel for Amy.   
Then you see him. Third in line. Behind George's brother. Always handsome in a suit. Smiling softly at you. It's not your wedding day, all eyes should be on the bride, but here you see Seb looking at you like you're the only one there.   
Your heart pounds, cheeks flushing at the thought of taking Amy's place. For a split second, you're the one in white, joining Seb under the arch, exchanging rings and promises.  
He winks at you in the middle of your thought and your stomach somersaults. By the time you make it to your spot, your face is burning, but you don't have long to dwell on it as the first chord sounds for Amy's song. The guests stand, everyone looking back, watching the bride make her way to her husband-to-be. All but one person. You catch Sebastian staring again, refusing to look away no matter how much you discreetly shake your head at him, urging him to watch the events like a good groomsman. The more you roll your eyes at him, the bigger he smiles, barely containing his laughter.  
The music comes to an end as Amy takes George's hand, the final notes carried away on the air. Standing beside them, you watch tearfully as two of your best friends promise their hearts to each other.


	26. Chapter 26

"Watch the dress." Amy warns George, looking more and more nervous the closer he gets with the bite of wedding cake. The mischievous glint never leaves his eye, but he resists the urge to smudge the cake and frosting across his wife's cheek. A mix of cooing at the sweet display and groaning in disappointment rolls through the crowd as Amy is equally civil with her chunk of cake.  
"Good choice." She says leaning in for a kiss.  
As the cake is cut and served, the crowd disperses, each to their own table, and the newlyweds get the first break of the afternoon to sit and eat.  
The band picks up again, keeping the background music going, nothing too loud as most of the guests were wanting to sit and eat, but enough to keep the silence at bay and the mood upbeat.  
Margaret starts to squirm in your arms,   
"What's up, kid?" You ask, starting to rock her,  
"Want me to take her?"  
"Where?"  
"Maybe she wants to dance." He smiles, "You should eat anyway, then you can take her and I'll eat."   
He lifts Maggie from your arms, urging you to finish your late lunch,   
"Hai sa dansam, Magpie." He whispers, holding her to his shoulder. He leaves the table, taking Maggie to the edge of the dance floor where a few people are still grooving, and he starts to sway.   
You watch them for a little while before turning to your plate.   
"Is that her?" A familiar voice asks from beside you. You turn to see Marcus at your elbow, camera in hand, watching Sebastian dance with your daughter.  
"That's her." You reply. He takes the seat beside you, sighing.  
He has the look of a man sitting through a practiced speech, but he keeps stopping himself before he can start.   
"I'm sorry about what I said." He finally lets out.   
You steel yourself, not wanting to argue and definitely not wanting to hear the rest of this,  
"I know you can take care of yourself." He presses on, "I've seen you do it so many times... And he obviously..."  
"Isn't Adam."  
Marcus nods lightly.  
"I tried. I tried not to worry about who might find a way to take advantage of you, or what would happen if I wasn't there to watch your back. But I'm always going to worry, because I'm always going to care about you. Though in this case, it turns out it was probably a good thing you cut me loose." He chuckles almost bitterly, nodding toward Maggie where Seb is making her wave at you. You can tell Sebastian is trying not to be too obvious about keeping a wary eye on Marcus   
"She's beautiful." He continues, "And I'm proud of you." You know you don't need his affirmation, but something about it makes you sit up straighter.   
"I also wanted to thank you. You didn't have to get me this job." He says lightly, graciously shifting the subject, "I really appreciate it... Im sure I don't deserve any favors from you."  
"Well, the best photographer in New York is the maid of honor. I had to delegate." You jab, making him chuckle.  
"Well, my offer's always open if you're ever looking for work. Though I'm sure that little one keeps you pretty busy."  
"That she does, but Seb has been great. He's kept everything from getting too overwhelming."  
You both watch him making faces at Margaret, who bounces happily in his arms, flashing gummy smiles at her daddy and giggling when he tickles her neck,  
"Really though. I am sorry. That man you've got there... Celebrity or not, he's a keeper."  
You sigh, thinking about your little family,  
"He really is."  
Marcus sits for just a moment longer,  
"I should probably get back to work. The first dance should be coming up soon." He stands to leave you,  
"Marcus." You stop him, "Thank you. It was actually nice seeing you again."   
He nods in agreement,  
"If you three ever need any help, you know where to find me." He says, excusing himself to get back to work.  
Marcus' words continue to echo in your head, 'he's a keeper.' You knew this already, you'd even realized it on your own, though it was fairly recently. He's definitely a keeper.   
A delighted squeak brings you out of your thoughts in time to see Seb taking his seat beside you, Maggie successfully pulling chunks of his hair free of his short ponytail. You scoop her up with a chuckle, letting him fix his hair and have his turn to eat while you're still thinking. Still processing. Still deciding.  
After dessert, the party picked back up. There was the first dance for the newlyweds, the mother-son dance, and the father-daughter dance, which you had to snap pictures of when Seb insisted on taking Maggie back out to the dance floor.  
Finally, Sebastian takes your hand, Amy's mother having taken Maggie for a little while to give the two of you a break. He pulls you close with a hand low on your back and starts to sway to the slow song. You rest your head on his shoulder and he leans into you. Amy's words from last night come back to you once again, 'I'm about to make the right time if you take any longer.'  
Maybe she was right.   
Maybe you could make the right time.  
And right now, you're thinking this is it.  
Pulling back to look at Seb, he looks back at you. Not expecting anything, not questioning, just looking. His gaze flickering over your face to your hair and back, almost like he was trying to memorize you.   
It's time.  
Finally.  
You gulp. A memory of Adam flitting through your mind. Unbidden, unwanted. Uncontrollable.  
Adam smiling so sweetly, telling you he loves you, holding you close like Sebastian is now.   
Adam leaving you. Crying. Splintered. Alone.  
You see a slight concern flash across Sebastian's eyes before you open your mouth,   
"Seb..."   
"Hmm?" He breathes. His full attention on you, mild concern shifting toward worry.  
Deep breath.  
You curl your shaking fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him down to speak beside his ear,  
"I..."  
Deep breath,  
"I love you."  
You feel him still. He doesn't even breathe, neither can you.  
What if you just made a horrible mistake?  
No. He isn't Adam.   
He loves you.  
He loves your daughter.  
You love him.  
"You better." He huffs beside your ear with a chuckle. You feel both of his arms wrap around out, holding you tight. He kisses your temple, your cheek, your shoulder.  
For the rest of the night, neither of you can stop smiling.  
.  
.  
.  
"Say it again."  
Sebastian huffs against your lips. It's not the first time tonight that he's muttered this request,  
"I love you." You chuckle,  
He presses you harder into the wall, taking your breath away with another kiss.  
You got home from the reception around midnight, carefully tucking in a sleeping Margaret, and Seb all but tackled you as the door to the nursery quietly clicked shut.  
"One more time. Say it one more time." He begs against your neck, his searching fingers finding the zipper on the side of your dress. He had shed his jacket by the end of the party, his bow tie in the car, as soon as he had grabbed you and pinned you to your bedroom wall, his hands made quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt.   
"You said 'one more time' three times ago." You gasp, nearly squealing when you feel him tickle your ribs.   
You card both hands through his hair, effectively pulling the rubber band free, and you let your hands come to rest on either side of his face,  
"I love you." You say again, softly but resolutely, "I'm sorry it took me so long to say. But I love you."  
To his credit, he doesn't actually cry, but you know he comes dangerously close. He pulls you into him again, slower, kissing you as deeply as he can, letting his fingers tangle in the curls that have fallen loose because of his insistent hands.   
You don't see fireworks, you don't hear a symphony, your foot doesn't "pop" like in those old films... But you're pretty sure your heart stops for just a moment, resuming only to beat along with his. Everything fits. Everything works. Everything is beautiful.   
His breath quickens again as you tighten your fingers in his hair, his free hand running down your side to lift your leg over his hip when you hear a whimpering cry coming from the nursery.   
You let out a high pitched whine and Sebastian laughing against your shoulder,  
"You have to get her." You groan,  
"What? Why me?"   
"Because I can't move." He snickers again, planting one last kiss to your jaw and heading down the hall.  
You take a few moments, catching your breath, calming down, remembering what you had promised yourself earlier.   
It was the right time.   
Following after him down the hall, you lean against the doorjamb, looking in on Sebastian rocking his little girl back to sleep. His longer hair will go eventually, whenever he gets the go ahead that he won't be needed for reshoots or anything. For now, Maggie loves tugging on it, his nose too, and every once in a while she'll get a good grip on his lip and giggle non-stop at his sounds of protest.   
But right now, this has become your favorite thing to see: Seb cuddling his swaddled daughter close, her tiny hand patting the five o'clock shadow on his jaw.  
He glances up when he realizes you're there.  
It's the right time.   
"What?" He finally asks when you continue to stare.  
You shrug,  
"Where did you come from?"  
He blinks,  
"Romania?"   
You snort,  
"Very funny. I mean, why are you here? Why would you stick with me?" You start toward him, "Even before Margaret. We didn't have to keep in touch after that party. You had no reason to ask me out after that. To stay my friend when I told you I wasn't ready for a relationship. To help me when I quit my job out of nowhere. Why did you stick with me?"  
"I already told you." He says, "I love you."  
"And I love you." The smile that lights up his face is infectious and you just can't help but smile back, "I love you for being the man your mother raised. For putting up with the mood swings, cravings, weepiness, and then the side effects of the pregnancy hormones."  
He snorts. You kneel in front of him, to look him in the eye,  
"I gave you so many reasons not to be here and instead of giving in, you gave me... Everything." He shifts in his seat a little, not so much uncomfortable as trying not to be emotional, "I love you so much, Seb." You crane up to kiss him on the the forehead and before you can manage to talk yourself out of it, you ask him, "Will you marry me?"


	27. Chapter 27

"You punk." Sebastian mutters, shaking his head in disbelief,  
"What?"   
"You beat me to it."  
"I... What?"   
He gets up abruptly, careful not to disturb the baby beginning to doze in his arms, and leaves you kneeling by the rocking chair, slightly confused.  
He comes back with something clenched in his fist.  
"I've been planning the perfect setting, the perfect time, and the perfect words for a couple of weeks now. And you just jumped the gun on all of it." He chuckles, sitting on the floor beside you. "The question is: do you still wear this if you're the one who did the asking?"  
He opens his hand, revealing one of the prettiest antique engagement rings you've ever seen. The band was plain enough, inlaid with mini diamonds leading to a scrolling setting for a round cut stone.  
You gasp despite yourself,   
"Maybe I should wear it since you asked me." He says starting to slip the ring onto his own finger,   
"Very funny." You stop him before he can get the band stuck on his knuckle. He catches your left hand, sliding the ring onto your finger instead. Looking at it glitter in the low light as Seb intertwines your fingers, you're overwhelmed and try to blink away your tears.  
He pulls you into a chaste kiss, then kisses your knuckles.   
"So..." You whisper unsteadily, "I can take this as a yes?"   
"Of course." He chuckles a little too loudly, making Maggie stir. He rocks her for a minute, soothing her back to sleep, then carefully gets up to tuck her into her crib.  
Coming up behind him, you wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head against his back and dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades. He eventually turns in your arms, holding you for a short while as you both watch your daughter sleep.  
In spite of your excitement and how close you had gotten to falling into bed together earlier, when he finally leads you to the bedroom, you are both too tired for anything to happen tonight. He just tucks you in and wraps you in a strong hug, holding you snugly to his chest.  
"This is happening?" You whisper,  
"This is definitely happening." He says, kissing the back of your neck. And regardless of his obvious fatigue, you don't think anything could wipe that smile off of his face.   
.  
.  
.  
"Everyone say hello to George and Amy!"  
You swivel Sebastian's tablet around so they can wave at the small party that's gathered in your apartment.   
It's been two days since the proposal, and as much as you wanted to wait and tell everyone together when your friends got back from their honeymoon, Sebastian just couldn't wait anymore. Yesterday he'd been all smiles, stealing kisses, taking any opportunity to be near you. To hold you. His hand always resting on the ring where it hid beneath your shirt.   
Your parents were still in town, they had come to help with the baby while you helped Amy with the wedding, and after numerous near-slips you decided to have mercy on Seb. You'd assembled your parents and friends for an early dinner, small enough that it shouldn't raise suspicion, and managed to get George to Skype with you from Italy.   
"So, how's Europe?" You ask, barely focusing on the answer. You were just stalling at this point.   
"We haven't seen much of it yet." George says, waggling his eyebrows and earning a playful elbow to the ribs from his wife, "Hey, she asked."  
"Everyone looks like they're having fun there, what's the occasion?" Amy asks,   
"Well, actually..." You begin, taking a breath, "Now that we have you all here... At least kind of: we do have something to tell you."  
You have everyone's attention which sends your nerves spiraling out of control.   
Suddenly you can't remember how to start this. Jump in? Do it gradually?  
Should you back track and do this some other time?  
"You're having another baby." Chris calls when you pause too long.  
The statement surprises you so much you almost choke on your tongue in your haste to negate it.   
"No. No no no. Not pregnant--"  
You suddenly feel Sebastian's hand on your shoulder, sliding to the hidden chain. He winds his other arm around your waist as he pulls the necklace free, letting your engagement ring fall to the outside of your shirt,  
"We are getting married, though." He says.  
There's a stretch of silence long enough to make you nervous before your mother can't hold in her squeal anymore. She and Elise run to hug you, the rest of the group following closely with their congratulatory handshakes and hugs.  
"I thought you were going to wait until next week, man." You hear Chris say to Sebastian,  
"Yeah... I didn't get that far." He replies, rubbing the back of his neck.  
"I kinda asked him." You explain,   
"I swear I was planning to ask for your blessing." Seb tells your parents, "Had it all planned out."  
"You just can't plan for me." You joke.  
"Well, you have our blessing anyway." Your dad says with a chuckle, clapping Sebastian on the shoulder.   
"Did I just hear that right?" Amy asks, her baffled expression making you laugh, "You asked him?"   
"I did."  
"Go girl!"  
"And George, I swear, if you say 'I told you so' I'll fly to Venice just to smack you." You add,  
"Hey, I didn't say anything."  
"I'm psychic."   
"Then I don't even have to tell you."  
"George--"  
"Yeah yeah."  
"He means congratulations. I promise." Amy jumps in,  
"Or," George presses, "I can say I told you so and you can have a Venetian wedding when you come to smack me."  
"Honestly, we all kinda told you so." Chris says with a chuckle,  
"Well, you don't have to tell us anymore." Sebastian pipes up.   
"Good." George says, "Glad you guys finally saw the light."  
"Have you started any planning?" Amy asks. You can see her eyes brightening just thinking about it.  
"Nothing yet. But the planning can wait until you get back. I have a feeling I'll want all the help I can get from my maid of honor." You wink at her. She squeals in excitement, reminding you more than a little bit of Maggie.  
"Oh I can't wait!" She says, utterly giddy. George closes his eyes with a sigh,   
"Why would you hijack my wife while we're on our honeymoon?"  
"You're the one who introduced Seb and me, George. Deal with it."  
After a couple of hours of celebration, Amy starts to doze off against George's shoulder. Checking the clock, you notice it's two in the morning in Venice and you quietly say goodnight. Everyone else slowly takes their leave until it's just you, Sebastian, and Chris all lounging in the living room,   
"You know you can just crash here tonight, right?" You finally say to Chris who looks like he's about to nod off.  
"Nah, I don't wanna impose."  
"You're a dork. Just sleep here."   
"Speaking of, we should probably be headed that way ourselves." Sebastian groans, hauling himself up off of the couch to go get ready for bed.   
"You coming?" He asks, pausing in the hall when he notices you haven't moved,  
"Five more minutes." You yawn, waving him off. He shakes his head at you with a light laugh and goes to get ready for bed.  
"I'm glad it's finally working out between you two." Chris says. His eyes are still closed, head resting back on the couch, and his words are beginning to slur.  
"Not gonna lie, I'm kinda surprised. I didn't really see us going that direction to begin with."  
"Yeah, I noticed you weren't exactly quick to jump into this with him. Knowing what kind of guy Seb is - which I'm pretty sure you've figured out by now - I thought it was surprising that you seemed to have so many reservations about it."  
"Crappy actor-ex's can do that to you." You chuckle bitterly.   
"An actor, huh? What did he do to make you swear off our kind?" You can tell he immediately wants to take the words back, obviously realizing how inappropriate the question is, "I'm sorry. It's none of my business."  
"It's okay. I don't usually talk about it. Not exactly a point in my life that is fun to reminisce on." You don't know if it's because you're comfortable with him, or just so tired you can't bring yourself to care about oversharing, but before you know it you're spilling your tragic story to Chris Evans.   
"Adam and I met at a party. He cracked the cheesiest pick up line I'd ever heard, but it effectively broke the ice; we got to talking and kinda hit it off." You sigh, "We were together for three years. We had moved in together and had even gotten to the point of talking about what kind of future we wanted... Turns out my goals were slightly different from his, but he was one of the most persuasive men I'd ever met."  
You shift uncomfortably, leaning into Chris's shoulder as he scoots slightly closer.  
"You don't have to tell me this." He says quietly.   
"I know."   
You hug your knees to you and take a deep breath, letting the story tumble put before you can think to stop it.  
"After three years he'd proven himself less than faithful. I caught him several times with other women, and never the same one twice, but he always managed to talk his way out of it and I'd walk away feeling like I was the one who had to do better."  
You see Chris frown and shake his head, "Looking back now I can see how stupid it was to stay with him, but I kept seeing what I wanted to see. Someone I wanted a future with. A family with. We'd even had a couple of 'scares' over the years. I'd be a few days or a week late, but then everything would work itself out and it would be a false alarm. Any time that happened, he would say something like 'thank god for that.' Or 'be more careful next time.' But I always brushed it off, taking it as a joke... It never occurred to me how serious he might be. One day I actually... I really was pregnant."  
"I take it he didn't react too well?"   
"He didn't actually tell me to do anything outright... He would always say something about us being so young, or how it's a good thing there are ways to take care of it."   
You pause, hoping you won't have to go into detail, and soon enough you see his eyes widen in realization  
"...He didn't--"  
"No... Yes... I guess-- He practically did. I mean, I'm the one who made the appointment. I'm the one who drove myself to the clinic... I'm the one who decided to abort, but to this day I can't shake the feeling that... I keep thinking that..."  
"You wanted to keep it." He says, unable to keep the shock from his voice. You nod, a few tears spilling over as he pulls you into his side.  
"This was a piece of each of us put together in one little person. I wanted to meet them. Once I had recovered and knew everything was okay I got back in touch with Adam to let him know. He said he wanted to meet up for dinner... And promptly dumped me."   
You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the tears to dry up. You know Adam doesn't deserve them.   
Chris rocks you back and forth wiping away tears as he saw them slip away,   
"I can't believe someone did that to you." He says finally,  
"Why? What's so hard to believe about that?"  
"Because I know you."  
"Then you know what a chump I am."  
"No. I know there's nothing you could have done to deserve that. Who did he think he was to think he could do better?"  
You stay curled against him until you've calmed down, fighting with the voice in your head that tries to negate everything Chris is telling you.  
For the first time you realize how much that voice sounds like Adam.   
"Trying to steal my girl, Evans?" Sebastian jokes, watching the two of you from the hallway holding a stack of sheets, a pillow, and blanket. You look at him nervously as he passes the stack to Chris until you see there isn't even a sliver of jealousy or doubt in his eyes,  
"I don't think I could if I tried." Chris says, finally letting you go in favor of laying out his bed for the night.   
Between the emotional release and the late hour, you feel yourself fading quickly, curled into the corner of your couch.   
"Okay, you've had your 'five minutes', it's time to go to bed." Seb insists quietly. You just groan in response.  
"Come on." He tugs gently on your wrists, "You don't want to sleep out here, Chris snores like a lion."  
Out of nowhere, a pillow suddenly smacks into the side of Seb's face.  
"I do not snore." Chris says defensively,  
"I could hear you through the wall at the hotel during press last year, man. You snore. Like a rockslide. Or Avalanche. It sounds like a jungle cat lives next--"  
"I get it."  
You're so tired you can't even bring yourself to laugh. Or stand. You stay on your side of the couch chuckling, severely impeding Chris's progress in laying out the sheets. As your head lolls to the side again, your eyes falling shut, you feel the couch drop out from under you after strong arms hook under your knees and around your back. You open your eyes, surprised,   
"What are you doing?" You ask Sebastian as he hoists you up off the couch and starts to carry you out of the room. You feel him shrug,  
"You were too tired to get up. I'm carrying you."  
"My superhero." You breathe with a smile and a yawn. With one ear resting against Seb's chest you can hear his laugh resonate deeper than usual.   
You think about how much you love that sound.  
"Super soldier." He whispers, "We've been over this, remember?"  
You think you remember. That afternoon all those months ago, laughing at each other, talking through movies, Maggie kicking against his hand; but now you're fading so fast, all you can think of is how Sebastian's knuckles graze against your stomach or arms or legs as he helps you change into your pajamas, then the coolness of the sheets as you slide under the covers in bed. Then the heat radiating from beside you as the bed dips and Seb crawls in.  
"I love you." You say, voice tired and barely audible, snuggling into your fiancé.  
"I love you too." He replies. His arms winding around you, keeping you pressed to his side.


	28. Finale

Your heels click on the tile as you meander from one photo exhibit to the next. Black and white, tilt shift, long exposure, your brief stint experimenting with motion blur. After a year of dreaming and photographing anything and everything, another six months of creative development, nearly another full year of planning and headaches over minutae, and yet another six months of jumping through hoops with building inspectors and landlords, your photo gallery grand opening had been far more successful than you'd expected. You had already sold four series' and gotten two commissions and the evening was far from over. Now you're taking a moment to enjoy your own work: wandering through Central Park in all its seasons, the city streets buzzing with nightlife or bustling with the day-to-day.  
You catch yourself smiling at a photo, backlit by a golden sunset, of a little girl in a knit cap and winter coat being lead down a cobblestone street by her father. He's holding both of her hands as she negotiates the pavement on wobbly legs. Maggie had taken her first steps that night when the three of you got back home.  
Another catches your eye: a mother and daughter, rendered in black and white, making sweeping snow angels, sheer joy apparent on their faces. That was this past Christmas. Sebastian was determined to get you in front of the camera if only to get another picture of you with your daughter. He actually had quite an eye.  
Finally, you come to the guest-artist exhibit.   
"I just love these two." You hear a woman sigh to a man you assume is her husband, "The shot down the aisle over the groom's shoulder where you can see the excitement on the bride's face. Then the other way around. You can just feel their love." She leans her head on his shoulder as he rests a hand on her waist.  
It's been nearly three years since the wedding, but that moment will always be fresh in your memory.  
.  
.  
.  
"Dad, I think I hear Maggie."  
"Your mother has her, don't even worry about it." He soothes,  
"But what if she's hungry?"  
"You just fed her. I can assure you, she will be absolutely fine until after the ceremony." He kisses the crown of your head, careful not to muss your hair, and you take a deep breath as the last of the bridesmaids heads down the aisle ahead of you.   
Your march begins. The guests stand and turn your way.  
You're acutely aware of all eyes on you, vaguely registering the shutter clicks behind you and the tug on your arm as you're escorted down the aisle by your father. But everything quickly melts away when you catch Sebastian's eye.   
He smiles at you wider than you think you've ever seen, but also wears a look of awe you've only seen on him once before. The day Maggie was born.  
Somehow you make it to the front. Somehow you follow the service over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.   
Somehow you speak. Untangling your tongue and steadying the excitement that threatens to steal your voice. Somehow you say the only two words that could possibly make Seb's smile any brighter,  
"I do."  
.  
.  
.  
"If I may, the subject herself is here." Marcus tells the woman fawning over his pictures. The feeling of being the center of attention pulls you from your memories.   
"Oh, aren't you the gallery owner?"  
"I am." You say, trying your best not to duck your head and blush.  
"All the work is hers as well," Marcus cuts in, "with the exception of these few."  
A week after the wedding, you had gotten a call from Marcus telling you about a studio space that would be up for lease sometime in the following months. He successfully led you to your own studio, assisted in your planning, and to your relief: kept a respectful and professional distance.   
"It's the least I could do for an old friend." You pat him on the shoulder.  
"Where is the groom this evening?" The woman asks, and before you can answer, a small voice calls from behind you,  
"Mommy!" You hear the tiny pattering footsteps before you turn around to scoop up your daughter. Sebastian is following close behind, carrying Maggie's shoes and her favorite stuffed giraffe.  
"Oh! And a little one!" The woman gasps, "She's beautiful."   
"Thank you." You say as Margaret drapes over you, hiding her face shyly in your neck. "And here comes the groom." You chuckle, feeling Sebastian sidle up beside you.   
Marcus makes the introductions and if either of the couple recognizes Sebastian, they don't mention it. The conversation quickly turns into business talk, leading to a potential job for Marcus,  
"I think Magpie's had it." Seb tells you softly as Maggie rubs her eyes.   
You excuse yourself smoothly and make the rounds one final time, thanking everyone for coming, before taking your leave.  
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Back home, you drop to the couch with a deep sigh, Maggie crawling into your lap.   
"Mommy! Mommy, Mommy." She tugs on your arm. Somewhere on the road back home, she caught a second wind and now she wouldn't go to bed.  
"What is it, hon?" You yawn, eyes falling closed.  
"Are you sleepy?"  
You nod, head resting on your fist,  
"Is the baby sleepy?"  
You smirk in spite of yourself, gathering your little girl into your arms, a snug fit against your baby bump.  
"The baby is very sleepy."  
"You should be too, you little ninja." Sebastian says, entering the living room, having changed for bed.  
"No!" She whines, scrambling to hug you so he doesn't take her back to her room.  
"Margaret. It's bedtime. You need to go back to sleep." He says firmly,   
"No!"  
He sighs, flopping down next to you,  
"Okay." He scoots closer to the two of you and starts to sing,  
"Hai luluțu. Dormi un picu'..."  
"No sleep, Tati." Maggie continues to whine through a yawn,  
"Dragul mamii, puiuț micu'..." He smooths her hair back, his tone soft. She rubs her eyes, quickly wilting against you as he continues to sing.  
You're not sure how long you sleep before Seb wakes you up with a kiss to the forehead, but Maggie is already tucked into her crib, out like a light.  
"I guess I don't know the strength of my powers." He jokes, still leaning over you,  
"Just be careful, with great power... Something something." You mumble, eliciting a chuckle from him. He kisses you softly. Deeply. Pressing you back into your seat. He threads an arm behind your back as yours wind around his shoulders. When he starts to pull away, you lean with him, chasing his lips.  
He chuckles again, lifting you off the couch before he breaks the kiss,  
"You should be in bed too. Both of you." He flattens his hand on your rounding lower belly, smile shining in his eyes.   
"This baby doesn't want to sleep either." You whine, leaning against him. He leads you down the hall, past photos from your wedding, the honeymoon in Australia, a few candid photos of Maggie and Seb (and even a few including you) on various film sets, and the newest frame: your recent sonogram.  
He lays you down carefully, speaking to your stomach,  
"Don't make me sing to you too, now."   
You giggle, combing your fingers through his hair as he kisses your bump.   
"We're doing okay, right?" He finally asks with a sigh,  
"You and me?" You look at him surprised,  
"No," he laughs, "with Maggie. We're doing alright... Right?"  
"Oh," you let out a relieved chuckle, pulling him up to you, "yeah... I mean, I think we are. We're not perfect, but are we supposed to be?" He curls himself around you as you speak, "Where's this coming from?" You finally ask.  
"I don't know... I guess I just keep worrying that I'm gonna do something wrong and ruin her for life."   
You almost chuckle before you realize he's being serious. You turn in his arms to look him in the eye,  
"You must not see what I see when you're with her." You nuzzle under his chin as he holds you tighter, "Your job as her father is to love her and keep her safe, right?"  
"Yeah..." He shrugs,  
"Then guess what?"   
"Hmm?"  
You pull back and look at him again, "You're doing more than alright."  
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Why are you still reading?  
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This isn't a Marvel movie.  
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Fanfics don't have Easter eggs.  
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No. Really.  
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Okay, fine.  
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*click*  
That probably marks three dozen pictures already, but you just can't get over the scene.  
"That was better! Try to keep your eyes open this time, though." Sebastian laughs.  
He makes sure your son is ready before tossing him the ball again. Try as he might, your four-year-old just can't keep his eyes open when the ball is coming at him. It glances off the edge of his glove.  
"Tati, nu pot!"   
"Yes, you can do it! It's already closer, you can get it." Seb calls again as he winds up to throw another underhand-pitch.  
"Maybe if you stopped throwing like a girl." You taunt, making little Owen giggle.  
"You make that sound like a bad thing." Seb calls back to you.  
"I want to try!" Maggie yells, running out into the yard, nearly tackling Sebastian. Soon enough, he's talking her through how to throw.  
You watch your kids play catch as your husband comes to sit behind you on your porch steps. He watches over your shoulder while you continue snapping pictures.  
You frame Owen just right to capture his determination, eye on the ball, tongue sticking out, reaching his glove as high as he can.   
Your finger slips when Sebastian nips at your neck.   
You get a fabulous picture of the grass.   
"Really?" You gripe when the picture loads, "That was gonna be such a great one!"  
He just shrugs and chuckles at you. As you turn to scold him you both hear a dull thump. You whip your head around just as Owen starts to cry, dropping his glove and holding his forehead. He runs straight to you. Followed closely by Maggie calling after him with a steady string of apologies.  
By the time you get him to look up, he already has a goose egg forming above his right eye.  
Maggie tries to lean forward to kiss it, but Owen pushes her away with a whine,  
"I'm sorry Owen! It was an accident!" She insists, on the verge of tears herself.  
"It's okay, you're okay, right Owen?" You ask him as you start to rock, he shakes his head and snuggles closer to you with a whimper.  
"Oh, I know!" Maggie announces, "I can make you feel better!" She kneels beside you two on the step and starts to hum before singing,  
"Haida nani nani, puișorul mamii. Domi in leganuț, puișor drăguț."  
Owen sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve as Maggie finishes her lullaby.  
"Will you play again now?" She finally asks him. Before you can blink, he's out of your lap, tagging Maggie, and running back into the house.   
"Hey! I wasn't ready!" She yells, running after him,  
"Too bad! Esti o!"  
You laugh with Sebastian, still sitting on the porch, while you listen to surprised squeals and the thumping of feet through the house,  
"You know what?" He says pulling you back against him,   
"Hmm?"  
"I think we did good." He kisses your cheek,  
"Da, am făcut. We did." You lean back into his embrace with a sigh, "We are."  
He nods, his chin on your shoulder,  
"Te iubesc, inima mea." He breathes.  
"I love you too."


End file.
